Death of a Supernaturalist

See my solitude Where once was truth now only doubt Touch my tortured skin Torn from within and from without Kiss my blistered lips My fingertips frost-bitten and grey Heal my wound within And watch the dead skin fall away See what can't be seen Between the table and the chair Touch what can't be touched The National Trust don't own the air Kiss what can't be kissed This is the risk we have to take Heal what can't be healed And feel the dead skin fall away Only you and I know exactly how it feels To unblinker a narrow mind And by doing so reveal the obscurity of life The intensity of dreams Only you and I have realised exactly what it means See the infant sun Whose time has come to climb the mist Touch the autumn sky Burned by the supernaturalist Kiss the purest lips The morning slips into the day Rising from the bed We feel our dead skin fall away