Specters move like pilot flames

Their widows toast at St. Angel

Better times collide with now

The tears were warm, I feel them still

Their heat to vapor and disperse

And cloud our eyes with weary glaze



You raise your glass and may exclaim

"I'll put my hands on the truth by God"

But it's faster, love, than you and me

Faster than the speed of gravity

That's how it catches you from falling

And how it always slips away



Specters move like pilot flames

Their widows toast at St. Angel

Better times collide with now

And better times

And better times are coming still