1. |
part one
13:47
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Well I can’t see the stars
because the pollution is quite bad
but I reckon they’re probably shining.
And I guess it’s pretty funny.
I guess it’s pretty sad.
I reckon I probably should of
said sorry if I had.
The nettles I used to know were here
that were my stick’s enemy
have gone away again.
So I guess we’d have to walk to find
a clearer patch of air.
It was a dull cold day.
The countryside was kind of grey.
we sat in the back seat
and we headed up the motorway.
And the sea will make mincemeat
out of you and me.
We struggle each day to the shore.
We are swept each day from our feet.
So we took a seat
and sirens came and filled up the street.
You made a few phone calls
and me and Frances made some tea.
And the sea will make mincemeat
out of you and me.
We struggle each day to the shore.
We are swept each day from our feet.
Time moves on.
The owners of this house are gone.
We packed it up,
we took it and we moved it on.
And the sea will make mincemeat
out of you and me.
We struggle each day to the shore.
We are swept each day from out feet.
Joggers in the rain over brick-built bridges
It used to be bad here,
now it is tame
and slowly creaking into the new phase.
There’s a place for you here.
Mournful mouth organ and mournful church organ
are swelling the wind.
Autumn leaves swept up into bin-bags.
Rough sleepers moved along.
There’s a place for you here.
Lines of old houses now for sale
are filling with torrential kisses and tears.
They’re dampening the walls and filling in the cracks
of those that lived here before.
There’s a place for you here.
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2. |
part two
11:12
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Throw that ring down a well.
It was a cheap one after all.
You were the no-good boy.
You were the respectable girl.
Long adventures in the car.
Fill the house with furniture.
Books do furnish a room.
Fill this house up with children.
Walk once more around the block.
Like two hands around a clock.
Two hands holding tightly
in your long coats with your black dog.
Not how you wanted it to end.
In the hospital again.
You were the no-good boy.
Now the keeper of the respectable girl.
You grazed your knee and now you’re feeling it.
Always the itch that begins the heal.
Your head is out of the sea now.
Slowly released from a torrent of mess.
You’re making something beautiful while everything burns down.
Kiss me quick, there’s no time to lose.
We both escaped a feral youth
so we can be safe companion.
Let’s walk now, there’s work to do.
Like making something beautiful while everything burns down.
Tradewinds are rolling in
and they start to salt your skin
but the day marks on the coast
are the people that will set you right.
They’ll make you something beautiful while everything burns down.
As I look at the view
out of the window
past the box that contains
what remains of you,
our faces are all aglow
with the residual light
that you left behind
and the hills behind the grounds
peek now and then
through a mourning veil of mist
And you walk home arm in arm.
In your long coats.
With your black dog.
And did I tell you I saw you once.
From a bus.
Walking past the supermarket?
Regular as a clock
now stopped.
The Grandfather clock in your living room
in the house that will be empty soon.
Long enough ago I know
that house lost the most important thing to you.
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