It's not long until I bring our son back home
I don't quite know how he is feeling
I don't know how much the experience hurt
I do know, for certain, and without bias
That no way has he reached his ceiling
And his love, his love, she will surely wait
His bridges of love may not have been burnt
I'm feeling pretty good about myself
I've lost a little bit of weight
I've left the biscuits in the cupboard
I hardly ever reach for the After Eight
I still want to lose another pound or two
I'm on track, as if leading the railway freight
I have a vision to realise; as once of you
How long, how long will I have to wait
Around the half blind corner
Up onto the lengthy straight
I tried your every door
I stood behind the five-bar gate
I worked myself up in such a way
I was in a pretty hopeless state
I couldn't, I cannot, comprehend
How such love, such loss, was my fate
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