From one big open space
To another
Down one long road
Without cloud to smother
Headlights, tail lights
Caffeine to recover
The radio plays
He ain’t heavy he's my brother
Into one small room
From another
It'll be breakfast soon
Without your lover
Nor neither his pink Cadillac
Three layers of reflection
Several hues of blue collected
On glazed vases once rejected
Falling tip-toe short of perfection
Three stares into perception
More news of crews defected
On trade cruisers once inspected
Stalling tip-toe short of deception
Three pairs, fares for inspection
Declared their turn is now affected
On laid up messages once again erected
Calling tip-toe short of duties detection
In the triple-glazed condo extension
In place of strife
In a life of opportunity
And always being the last to leave
Not seeing those lost in left behind love
Tastes of freedom, seasons
Of spring, of summer, of autumn
Winters turn, burn
Dumb again, left for reasons of love
Paisley shirts, floppy felt hat
With a touch so intimate
A gait, the trait, it's late
Don't hesitate, imagine that
Yes to fancy being the anchor of love
The alarm clock misses its beat
Our feet touch and we talk of dreams
The meaning of our sleep it seems
Wrapped in paper, left by the keep
In the park where you showed me headstones
The old bones, uncovered and moved to one side
The pride of civilisation, they cried
We lied, and sang of Me and Mrs Jones
Unknown to another generation
Later or earlier, after, before, or in between
Unseen by angels and painters, redeemed
By atheists, agnostics, and the freighter
Which funnels the flow along the leat
You play The ride of the valkyries
I play Conquest of paradise
You drive down Mulholland
I go through my village to the moor
Your landscapes are mountains
And deserts, lands open of fear
My hillsides are for shepherds
For winds, and cheek red tears
I turn, full round in either direction
In this twilight the twinkles
Of the cities illuminate the depths
Of the valleys, indicate the journeys
To the centres of our earths
