| I move my head to fit the halo
|
| I change a fuse
|
| I sing a threadbare song
|
| Earmarking you
|
| Yes, the pubs are kicking out
|
| Now the road is empty
|
| And your son is sleeping
|
| In my keeping
|
| Your husband makes love to me
|
| Refuelling midair
|
| Last light
|
| With a fire hose
|
| Pitoud to the underlay of cloud
|
| In the crease you leave behind
|
| Pitoud to the underlay of cloud
|
| In the crease you leave behind
|
| Strange disabled words
|
| For something so remote
|
| Primitive
|
| That I might live
|
| Pitoud to the underlay of cloud
|
| I move my head to fit the halo
|
| I change a fuse
|
| I sing a threadbare song
|
| Earmarking you
|
| Pitoud to the underlay of cloud
|
| In the crease you leave behind
|
| Pitoud to the underlay of cloud
|
| In the crease you leave behind
|
| The swish of wings sing, sing migration
|
| The swish of wings sing, sing migration
|
| The swish of wings sing, sing migration
|
| The swish of wings sing, sing migration
|
| The swish of wings sing, sing migration
|
| I move my head to fit the halo
|
| I change a fuse
|
| I sing a threadbare song
|
| Earmarking you
|
| Yes, the pubs are kicking out
|
| Now the road is empty
|
| And your son is sleeping
|
| In my keeping
|
| Your husband makes love to me
|
| Refuelling midair
|
| Last light
|
| With a fire hose
|
| Strange disabled words
|
| For something so remote
|
| Primitive
|
| That I might live
|
| Pitoud to the underlay of cloud
|
| Pitoud to the underlay of cloud |