The sun in scorpio
First there is a forest, naturally trees, but the thing is forest
Maybe my sight is getting worse
Let me put it this way, there weren't six foot posters of him on student walls
Shivering, but it is internal, hands steady as a rock
I will lie down
This is one possible way, raise our heads, walk
If candle-flame took the light
Perhaps there is a way we can recover
What do you think of the hat?
They're only bombs, Mrs Tavistock, bombs don't decide
All this is is a table, these are people
Listen, beneath our breaths, listen
There were many of us, now there are few
It's hard to imagine love in Thatcham
Quietly, it must have been a weekend, they took us from the map
What kind of effigy?
All I am is at the window, all you are is not
My grey suit, my grey suit, my grey suit, my pink.