When the days get shorter
When the sky begins to pale
When the winds are howling
Down the high-walled, cobbled lane
I write my name in the sycamore leaves
And sign it with a kiss
I’m coming home soon
The blue moon after next
When the night is hollow
And shadows crowd the lawn
When the doors are bolted
And the curtains are all drawn
You hear my voice in the creaking floorboards
And hold your troubled head
I’m coming home soon
The blue moon after next
I am the thing that stands outside your bedroom door
And whispers through the keyhole
The hand that knocks
The face you pretend you can’t see outside the upstairs window
If I am not welcome, you can tell me
I’ll disappear like mist
I’m coming home soon
The blue moon after next
Smooth, sophisticated pop with neoclassical flourishes from the Berlin-based duo of Fabian Till and Birk Buttcherey. Bandcamp New & Notable May 2, 2024