Orange lamps shine by willow bay. Ice covers from the lake to where I lay. In a state. In which I dream If you were here. Winter wouldn't pass quite so slow. And if you were here. Then I'd have
I'm not saying that I come from poverty. I had a salad in my lunchbox if that means anything. I'm not saying that I'm from Chelsea. (He's not saying that he comes from Chelsea). I try and write so
When every little thing. You own is looking back. At you and starts to mean. Less than it ever did On every. On every inch of stone. Skin and cloth. Made to leave you Here you are, you are breat
If I go to Gloucester you know I will. Wait there for you. The Rhumb Line is waiting there too. You know it's worth the nights we wait there. It all falls apart, apart. Come on. Come on. . If
To settle our thoughts. Never minding what for. Nothing of a harm to dread. On my mind So tell me what belies. Oh, tell me what I could have. Oh, oh, tell me what for No more of this living dying
When every little thing. You own is looking back. At you and starts to mean. Less than it ever did On every. On every inch of stone. Skin and cloth. Made to leave you Here you are, you are breat