Owen Sheers - On Going lyrics

i.m. Jean Sheers There were instruments, as there always are, to measure, record and monitor, windows into the soul's temperature. But you were disconnected from these and lay instead an ancient child fragile on your side, your breath working at the skin of your cheek like a blustery wind at a blind. There was only one measurement I needed anyway, which you gave, triggered by the connection of my kiss against your paper temple and registered in the flicker open of your eyes, in their half-second of recorded understanding before they disengaged and you slipped back into the sleep of their slow-closing.