"Means and Ways" genre: Folk
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	Ahh the joys of the sitar...
	CD: Russian Space Mirror   Label: Self - Produced Credits: ©1999 Yirgacheffe Music. All Rights Reserved.
	Lyrics Motes of dust in a room Perched above the River Seine Spiderweb of frost On the window pane again A vague rumple suggestive of A human underneath Evokes the familiar response Of the clenching of the teeth Tie a knot in a stomach Or a piece of string Living through winter Just kind of anticipating spring The smells of danger and fear Were always close to you Were raised with these things from birth And then we put them neatly out of view I know the secrets of your yesterdays Dinners and bedsheets and the source of telltale means and ways You call it freedom and Thats okay by me Well if thats your definition Then I guess by definition youre free But does it bother you? Does it seep through? Well I think that I would have noticed If the sky were not at least some kind of shade of blue A pair of pale eyes against me Was more than I could stand Each look went in between you & me And removed the ampersand Make a point with a needle And thread it through As long as youre consistent The world will consistently forgive you I find I have some trouble Trying to fall asleep But if you can close your eyes at night Then I guess that I can keep A secret love is filling in the cracks of yesterday Giving you the strength to make the choice between inveigle and inveigh You say, "I am about darkness," and thats okay by me But if everyone were as dark as you Pretty soon it would be too dark to see Well I thought that you thought that I thought That you thought that I think too much But I think that you thought that I thought That you thought that I thought that you were out of touch If youre still thinking what I think youre thinking Then I think that you dont quite see You see I thought that you knew what you were doing And thats one too many thoughts for me You know the secrets of my present days Dinners and bedsheets and the source of telltale means and ways You call it freedom and thats okay by me Cause I am about darkness and I wont miss the cracks that I cant see Now I sit perched in this room perched above the River Seine Watching the motes of dust fall down and down and up and up again In the breeze made by the shutting door and another day After a rousing round of dinners and bedsheets and telltale means and ways

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