The lovers they kiss and slowly they turn. for drawing a breath there is nothing but time. A thousand million years before we crash in the sun. And I know we will be still here in Her arms.
I'm heading north, I'm heading home doing 125. I close my eyes and count to ten. Ha ha, I'm still alive. Perfect, perfect tunnel vision, razor sharp and racing, racing.
There's storm clouds amassing over in the west up above the moor. The city shines in grey, mills closing down on the valley floor. All you can do here is survive, grit your teeth and just stay alive.
One swallow never made a spring. You can buy a crown - it doesn't make you king. Beware the trinkets that we bring. . When the visionary dreams set hard and grey as flesh made into stone.
I went to my mother, said - please make me king. I went to my mother, said - I've got to be king. She said son - well you've got to wait your turn. Patience is a virtue that you never seemed to learn.
The lovers they kiss and slowly they turn. for drawing a breath there is nothing but time. A thousand million years before we crash in the sun. And I know we will be still here in Her arms.
Mother, Father, I'm doing OK. On the other side of the country, far away. And though I know the things that you want to hear me say. Sometimes these things are hard.
Today, as you listen to this song. Another 394,000 children were born into this world. They break like waves of hunger and desire upon these eroded shores.
The time I think most clearly, the time I drift away. Is on the bus-ride that meanders up these valleys of green and grey. I get to think about what might have been and what may yet come true.
They started work this morning down at city square. They're pulling down the statues of our great grandfather's hero. The new books said he wasn't such a great man after all.
We walk every morning in silence. Past the mills on Whetley Lane. Where the lights went out for the very last time. And they never came on again. The spokesman all shred crocodiles tears.
Such a sensitive opinion in one so young. Would you like to know about everything that we've done. You believe what you read in the printed lies. But you won't believe the evidence of your own eyes.
Bury the hatchet with a smile and a curse. The world is big enough for both of us. The pack's been shuffled now - we've got different hands. There's different enemies for both of us now.
I'm sick of the sight of some snot-nosed kid. Cutting a swathe through the age of deconstruction. Picking at the sores of the dying beast. And winning all the prizes for imagination.
In the unlit room with my head in my hands. The walls between us now seem unscalable. I cannot control anything. There are weapons down beside your bed.
Smash glass against the wall. Curse the music on the radio that the neighbours play.. Door slams, she turns her head. Watches through the window as he pulls away.