Equinox - Floater

While the king he screams at the likes of us

Her majesty waits at the back of the bus

The stars willingly align

And after all time stays on its own side

Without wings we’re gathering

Preparing for the rites of spring

And from the swinging of the axe to the swaying of the hips

It’s such a tangled web we weave from the soul to the lips

The time to live is hard in the ticking of the clocks

As you and I make love to the equinox