"Salve for Every Sore" lyrics

Virtue itself of vice must pardon beg and seeks salvation
As we're dipping faults into affection
She is a fine young terrorist, the graves were standing tenantless
Wandering through Nunhead's sheeted dead
We speak of all the worst of things, light up from the lingering
Maggot hidden in the apple
Soothes all the griefs I know, dulls my pain and othered woe
Tangled limbs lay on the feathered bed

Oh, I, my little darling
I get the impression
You're a salve for every sore
Whoa-oh-oh-oh, oh-oh
A storm is a-roaring
And since heaven harbours envy for us
An opening in the midst
The sense of centre shifts
And you're that little thing I'm thinking of

On most days, we pray for rain, a tidal world of water spilling over
Dripping from our ledges
You were a mermaid clinging to a wharf-pile
As you tried to pull the barnacles off from them with your hands
Let there pass a minute, ten, a thousand or ten trillion
The jerking noose of time extending
How can this absence be endured, dealt a sickness past its cure
My heart you race and stagger and demand

Oh, I, my sweet baby, I get the impression
You're a salve for every sore
Whoa-oh-oh-oh, oh-oh
A storm is a-roaring
And since heaven harbours envy for us
An opening in the midst
The sense of centre shifts
And you're that little thing I'm thinking of

I think that you will find, yeah
I'm shook out of my mind
'Cause you're that little thing I'm thinking of