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And Also The Trees - Maps In Her Wrists And Arms
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In the tent of powder and lace
Vultures pick at a carcass that feeds by hand
Longing to decay
Waits to hear the sound
Of their wings slowly heave as they fly away
Some will stay for days

There's maps in her wrists and arms
And the dust lies like snow around the bed

Glowing white, a sculpture of bone
Or a jewel like a crumpled, distorted moon
Shivers in her mind
If she moves too near
It shatters so quickly, leaves nothing behind
The old lady sighs

Sometimes when she lifts her eyes
The room has filled with flowing sheets of silk
There's maps in her wrists and arms
And the morphine surges terror bread and bliss

In the tent of powder and lace
She can hear some violins, watches the strings
Threading through the room
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<b>And Also The Trees - Maps In Her Wrists And Arms</b><br><marquee direction="up" scrollamount="2" width="300"> In the tent of powder and lace<br /> Vultures pick at a carcass that feeds by hand<br /> Longing to decay<br /> Waits to hear the sound<br /> Of their wings slowly heave as they fly away<br /> Some will stay for days<br /> <br /> There's maps in her wrists and arms<br /> And the dust lies like snow around the bed<br /> <br /> Glowing white, a sculpture of bone<br /> Or a jewel like a crumpled, distorted moon<br /> Shivers in her mind<br /> If she moves too near<br /> It shatters so quickly, leaves nothing behind<br /> The old lady sighs<br /> <br /> Sometimes when she lifts her eyes<br /> The room has filled with flowing sheets of silk<br /> There's maps in her wrists and arms<br /> And the morphine surges terror bread and bliss<br /> <br /> In the tent of powder and lace<br /> She can hear some violins, watches the strings<br /> Threading through the room </marquee><br>Lyrics provided by <a href="http://www.musiclyricsatoz.com/lyrics"><u>http://www.musiclyricsatoz.com/lyrics</u></a>

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And Also The Trees - Maps In Her Wrists And Arms
In the tent of powder and lace
Vultures pick at a carcass that feeds by hand
Longing to decay
Waits to hear the sound
Of their wings slowly heave as they fly away
Some will stay for days

There's maps in her wrists and arms
And the dust lies like snow around the bed

Glowing white, a sculpture of bone
Or a jewel like a crumpled, distorted moon
Shivers in her mind
If she moves too near
It shatters so quickly, leaves nothing behind
The old lady sighs

Sometimes when she lifts her eyes
The room has filled with flowing sheets of silk
There's maps in her wrists and arms
And the morphine surges terror bread and bliss

In the tent of powder and lace
She can hear some violins, watches the strings
Threading through the room
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