Been climbing trees I've skinned my knees My hands are black the sun is going down She scruffs my hair in the kitchen steam She's listening to the dream I weaved today Crosswords through the bathroom door While someone sings the theme-tune to the news And my sister buzzes through the room leaving perfume in the air And that's what triggered this. I come back here from time to time I shelter here some days.
A high-back chair. He sits and stares A thousand yards and whistles Marching-band (Boom-ching) Kneeling by and speaking up He reaches out and I take a Massive hand. Disjointed tales That flit between short trousers And a full dress uniform And he talks of people ten years Gone like I've known them all my life
