Hexanal

Hexanal - The Blue Aeroplanes

I awoke to everyone's favourite

The scent of new-mown grass

I knew I'd been here and almost everywhere else before

But the shape of your youthful ass

Heading for the shower

Was a sign, a surely beneficial spell

Though all the ingredients were artificial

Brewed in some factory in the Mid-west

By mild-mannered family men

Oh it seemed so real

Your gaze like a charm of the way I'd feel

Your touch on my departing arm, my body flown

TO be buried in damp, dark England

My time capsule containing your fake I.D. ghost

And it's rained here, like God's open bar

His treat to the old-world soil

Where you are, the fake the rain

Import it like the electricity that still fails

And in your unlikely darkness, how can we tell what's real?

You'd swear that cranberry shade was artificial

But it's really cochineal

So kiss my eyes to the sound of a million dying insects

Shut my eyes to the sweet remembered sex & all

Ignore my calls but write me a note

Write my valediction, and I hear a voice

So loving and so personal

And I stretch out on the new-mown grass

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