Lyrics

East of nothing that’s west of the sun
From a kettle of vultures the scoundrel had come
To cover a wound takes fabric and skin
But a talon’s abrasions go deeper within.

Crinoline, cashmere, rayon and georgette
Tulle and linen, a silk tourniquet
My torso and head, limbs wrapped in chiffon
With nothing to hang my lone hat upon.

An army of textures intend to adorn
(I’m sure you’d remember the blouse I had worn)
But I sent my body far out into space
In hopes all the trouble it caused ‘d be erased

Crinoline, cashmere, rayon and georgette
Tulle and linen, a silk tourniquet
A torso, a head, four limbs all were gone
With nothing to hang my lone hat upon.

A year I was little but molecules lost
And comets and asteroids soared at high cost
North, south, and nowhere, an orbit of none.
It’s hard to explain what damage was done.

Crinoline, cashmere, rayon and georgette
Tulle and linen, a silk tourniquet
My porcelain head, limbs wrapped in chiffon
With nothing to hang my lone hat upon.

Crinoline, cashmere, stretched out on my loom
To fashion a gauze over a ghostly plume
A body of parts from which I had drawn
On something to hang my lone hat upon.