Flying back in the waterless and spiky grass, Looking up at the fluffy clouds, seems closer now. Looking down through the tumbling grass to the line of trees, All the cars on the Guildford Road are just a murmur now. Footborne paths like whitewash streams run down the hill, Red kite waving so frantically in the bluey sky, Family with a little girl in a flowy dress, She crouches down to pick a flower then dances on. Pa-pa-pa-pa-pa-pa-pa Right up here I'm far away from everything, Right up here there's nothing that can touch me now, The only thing that stabs my back is spiky grass, The only thing that makes me fall is liberty. Pa-pa-pa-pa-pa-pa Right up here I'm far away from everything, The only thing that stabs my back is spiky grass, The only thing that makes me fall is liberty.
