What shall we tell them?
A honeymoon brief as a walk in the park
What shall we tell them when they ask?
And they'll ask
Could you not see another way out?
Was the place without sun?
Was it furnished in black?
With the ache of the gas-oven
There at your path
A death-angel paces in boredom and waits
It shrieks from dark corners undermining your faith
What shall we tell them when they ask?
And they will ask
Could you not see another way out?
Where were the cape and the coast-line?
The wonder-kid's sunshine?
Your sanity shattered
In climbing the walls
Wet towels at the floor-lines
Stuffed under the doors
And the beating of powder-black wings left you blind
The last days of December are the loneliest kind
In the exit you made
There was no pause for thought
'Cause the lies that I told
Were the lies that you bought
There was no place to find you
No you to be found
In the margins of books you were reading
There were stages to grieving that won't let you down
Where was the coast-line?
The wonder-kid's sunshine?
Under northern skies
Anonymous and free
Your night-fisherman pushes
A boat out to sea
You'll surely meet shores
Though his faith is unsound
There are stages to grieving that won't let you down
The Last Days Of December Lyrics performed by David Sylvian are property and copyright of the authors, artists and labels. You should note that The Last Days Of December Lyrics performed by David Sylvian is only provided for educational purposes only and if you like the song you should buy the CD