she has faces up in her bedroom and they gaze down on her guarding her slumber
a black bead rosary under her pillow and when it thunders she clutches it tightly
and she hears silence is white, sound is black, the world is wrapped in a paper sack
and when i leave i close the door to this galaxy of yours
dropping by i open a window as the breeze blows in the curtains are butterflies
and we hear the churchbells ring out on a hill and all of their echoes left us singing
silence is black, the room is bright, our world is basking in tv light
and we are laid out on the floor of this galaxy of yours

with all of your heroes waiting in paper piles laid on the floor
i push my paintbrush lightly and fill in any empty nail holes

a dresser top, a jewelry box, colored tassles tied in knots
and a porcelain girl danced a music box ballet for us
and your nightlight is a star, or a firefly, that
leads my gaze up to the ceiling
wondering if you think that it's the sky
with all of your heroes...

open the window slightly, pick up paper off the floor
i hold my paintbrush tightly, and fill in any empty nail holes
open the window slightly