You carry brass keys in your hand.
You walk across the salted sand.
The Monsterea grows so wide.
The clockwork gears begin to glide.
Slow down the pendulum swing.
Hear how the Calathea sing.
The glass is cracked above your head.
Where all the metal dreams are fed.
You check the spring and wind the dial.
You stay inside a little while.
The soil is rich and dark and deep.
While all the silver watches sleep.
Slow down the pendulum swing.
Hear how the Calathea sing.
The glass is cracked above your head.
Where all the metal dreams are fed.
A rusted bolt falls on the floor.
You lean against the heavy door.
The ferns are drinking up the dew.
The copper wire is shining blue.
Slow down the pendulum swing.
Hear how the Calathea sing.
The glass is cracked above your head.
Where all the metal dreams are fed.
You count the seconds by the root.
The gold leaf tastes like ripened fruit.
The Latin names are on the wall.
You watch the heavy raindrops fall.
Stop the ticking for a beat.
Feel the loam beneath your feet.
Iron rusts and petals fold.
Turning everything to gold.
The mainspring snaps inside the case.
You wipe the oil from off your face.
The ivy climbs the ticking tower.
A mechanical kind of flower.
Slow down the pendulum swing.
Hear how the Calathea sing.
The glass is cracked above your head.
Where all the metal dreams are fed.
Just a gear in the green.
The softest clock I have seen.
Tick tack, green leaf.
