I turned hills into mountains
Wandering in my young time
And I’d sleep by where the moss grows
To put the ugly years at bay
And if you saw me now
I’d turn winter into spring.
When I lived in the halls,
I used to catch a bus
To the station to see the lights
And I learned to walk the wind
I broke into sweat one day
And watched kids grow up.
I dreamt about a black smoke fire
Still can remember it now
And the ripping of the paper sheets
When dad finally left the office
If you could see me now,
I’d turn paper into machè.
A good days work ran out
After a week or so
And I heard that you’d been writing
Thought I’d give it a go
That was a week of raincoats
And you turned the rain to sun.
I promise you sit on my minds throne
Narrow Racket became our alley
And a woman came and sat beside me
Like you’d see in some European movie
Slipped me a stopwatch, said ‘not now, then when?’
And I made a church of your hands and lips.
That day, the bus never name,
And I have to play music to remember.