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 bathroon door
While someone sings the theme tune to the news
And my sisters 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 somedays
A high-back chair, he sits and stairs
A thousand yards and whistles marching-band
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
Like scattered black & whites
I come back here from time to time
I shelter here somedays
I come back here from time to time
I shelter here somedays
|