song 4 - i think this is a translation of a secret language

a perfect day, lapping reflect on stonethere will be no children if we go it alonecopper and sawdust, the packages ofamerica speak of mediated lovecome feed the narrow rock of the harborthe chill blue gray waterthe wires that sing to the perpetual cicada withinthe bugs darken with greasethe copper tarnishes, the arteries obeytrees turn yellow in summer, snow turns graythe windows get a subtle filmcars like pacman ghostsin their liberty of wanttake us to our suffering of mostthe wires that sing to the perpetual cicada within