The Violet Hour

Your lips are nettles

Your tongue is wine

You're left as liquid

But your body's pine



You love all sailors

But hate the beach

You say 'Come touch me'

But you're always out of reach



In the dark you tell me of a flower

that only blooms in the violet hour



Your arms are lovely

Yellow and rose

Your back's a meadow

Covered in snow



Your thighs are thistles

and hot-house grapes 

You breathe your sweet breath

And have me wait



In the dark you tell me of a flower

that only blooms in the violet hour



I turn the lights out

I clean the sheets

You change the station

Turn up the heat



And now you're sitting

Upon your chair

You've got me tangled up

Inside a beautiful...but



In the dark you tell me of a flower

that only blooms in the violet hour



In the dark you tell me of a flower

that only blooms in the violet hour



In the dark you tell me of a flower

that only blooms in the violet hour