Right now I am sat
In a chair, in a room
With nothing pressing to be done
What would it feel like
To sit in another chair, in another room
With nothing pressing to be done
I think of Buckfast Monastery
Sat in a bedside chair, in a visitors room
With nothing pressing to be done
Rapidly then I think
Of all of those chairs, in all of those rooms
With nothing pressing to be done
I wonder what it means, or feels like
To sit on a chair, in a room
With nothing pressing to be done
The pleasure of the sunlight streaming
As I sat, on a chair, in a room
With nothing pressing to be done
The restlessness, caused by the grey clouds
As I sat, on that same chair, in that same room
With nothing pressing to be done
Allowing the dullness of weather to affect me
As I sat, on a chair, in a room
With nothing pressing to be done
To see the red leaves, brightened by the rain
As I sit, on that chair, in that room
With nothing pressing to be done
