Owen Sheers - Four Movements in the Scale of Two lyrics

1. Pages Cut to us, an overhead shot, early morning, Lying in bed, foetus curled, back to naked back. Opposing ba** clefs, the elegant scars on the hips of a cello, a bu*terfly's white wings, resting. The double heart of a secret fruit, an 'X' in the equation. An open book with blank pages and nothing on them but sleep, the reading of our dreams and this. II. Still Life I sit, eyes closed, my naked back a canvas on which you paint, drawing upon a palette of touches, light across the skin, shading between my shoulder blades with the brushstrokes of your hair, adding depth, with the impression of your breasts against the sentence of my spine and texture with your tongue cracking close in my ear, making me realise once more that bodies, like souls only exist when touched. III - Eastern Promise Beneath the dark tent of her down-falling hair. Speak he said - and she did. Drawing the language from deep, summoning the Steppe and Siberian snow to their bed until the words caught her and she cracked their consonants over her tongue before dropping them to him, like the shock of new ice in old water. IV Line-Break What breaks when this happens? Insignificant, but enough to leave a caesura and us, puzzling over what gave as suddenly and obscured as a gla** dull-snapping in the hand beneath the washing water. that gives no sign it has done so until the slow smoke-signal of blood, uncurling from below.