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Cloud Of InkCopyright © 2005 Ken Ficara
Ken Ficara: Vocals, guitar, harmonica
Produced and engineered
by Ken Ficara
Recorded at home
They called me a monster; sailors lived in fear of me
My picture on maps marked the edge of the known sea
So I stayed down deep, always ready to run
I'd make my escape if I saw anyone
Ink spreads through the water as I flee
I have something I'm afraid to say; I don't want you to hear it
I hide myself with my pen, writing lines to obscure it
I pile up paragraphs so I don't have to face it
Layers of ink blot it out and erase it
A fence of sentences; you can't get anywhere near it
These words are just a cloud of ink
To cover my getaway
I spread a screen of language
Because I don't know what to say
Words cross empty words like a game of Scrabble
We're scoring points, constructing this meaningless babble
It's a cage of random text, imprisoning context
Don't show your hand; don't let on what comes next
There's ink on my fingers, and there's ink on the page
There's ink on the wall where I threw it in a rage
There's ink all over you but I can still see your face
At least I think so
Beneath the ink so black
It looks like blood under streetlights
Semantics cloud the water, I sink out of sight
I just can't bring myself to face the light
It's dark and it's cold and the pressure grows
I know we should talk, but I don't want to know
Ink spreads out behind me, and I go.