Our car, moving slowly
In the morning, in the morning.
My mother holding
an old dog, and talking.
The clouds were so perfect
on the hills, in the sunlight,
on Boxing Day, driving,
our minds were far away.

We’ve come to
the end of –
the end of –
the end of –
Bend and take your shoes off,
your shoes off,
your shoes off.
Those clouds are going to come down
from the hilltops, the hilltops.
The morning’s going to get rough,
going to get rough.

All gathered ’round
the small death that prepares us.
All gathered ’round,
it’s our grief that repairs us.

In the fading light,
on the level plain,
we could drive and never stop

on the empty road,
along Ellesmere.
We want the world, we want the world!

All our dying days,
we have to bend our backs
under a weight of expectation,

and weave ourselves
elaborate cocoons;
but there are holes in the fabric we wrap ourselves in!

I want to stand outside of time,
to float above the tidal lake.
I’m tired of trying to fight the current,
feeling it accelerate.
The outflow will have to wait…

And now the gathering
a catalogue of thoughts;
identifying and arranging
for a manifesto,
for a song to pass the night,
for a boat of words to emigrate in.

I want to stand outside of time,
to float above the tidal lake.
I’m tired of trying to fight the current
feeling it accelerate.
The only goal in mind’s to stay
alive and in the company of friends.
whatever kind of road we’re on,
it’s good to travel with the ones who understand.

I want to stand outside of time,
to float above the tidal lake.
I’m tired of trying to fight the current,
feeling it accelerate.
The outflow will have to wait…

Up from the garden you float.
We have a lot to let go.
All on the heat of the wind;
we are all tied at the toes.

For the good of my mind in the autumn,
for keeping me on top of the water,
I put up a front of industry,
and bind myself fast to the office.

All my friends are flying north, like birds that leave for winter.
Packing bags and taking off; they take my feathers with them.
Scattering among the clouds, and I can hear them singing.
All my friends are flying north, oh, on the wind, on the wind.

When the days drag out, and numb my thoughts,
when I cannot work here any more;
I’ll catch a plane; I’ll take my car.
I’m at home anywhere,
anywhere you are.

I found my fate
In the shape of a wave.
My anchor didn’t hold in the storm,
now I’m drifting out the bay…

Age,
I feel the weight of an age.
I don’t want to carry all the years around,
but I’m getting older by the day.

I’m afraid of the day
when everything I’m built upon will change.

I cried for the pain of doubt,
wearing at my heart ’til it wore it out;
with nothing left to care about,
I couldn’t make a sound!

So let go the mooring ropes,
and farewell this little boat;
there’s no preparation you can make
that the currents won’t confound!

I’m afraid of the day
when everything I’m built upon will change.
It’s a dark new day,
It’s a brave new day,
and there’s no escape.