The Projectionist
The projectionist sleeps
In the stalls underneath the seats
Where the folks left over an hour ago
Snowy footprints in the streets
Maybe in his dreams
She appears all covered in trees
And he pushes his way through her branches
And he sings out loud in his sleep
As a bird breaks the sky
But it's men who look through its eyes
And drop awfulness from its talons
Above rooftops where he lies
That wonderful place
Falls into a deadly cascade
An image of an audience's faces
Glows warmly then it fades
The projectionist sleeps
In the stalls underneath the seats
Far beneath the city's new mountain
The noise wakes a whale from her sleep
The walls are keeling in
The birds that don't exist
I believe in everything
The monster peering in
The picture flickering
All the things that don't exist
I believe in everything