waiting for the 7.18 january is endless
weary eyed and forlorn, the northern line is the loudest
sitting in silence in bars after work
i've got nothing to add nothing to contest
can i still kick a ball 100 yards?
now we cling to bottles and memories of the past
just give me moments not hours or days
grinding your teeth in the middle of the night
let the sadness off those molars
spend all your spare time trying to escape
with crosswords and the sudoku
if i could do it all again i'd make more mistakes
not be so scared of falling,
if i could do it again, i would climb more trees
i'd pick and i'd eat more wild blackberries
