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I’d like to thank all of the stars just for shining out tonight
like a hundred scattered eyes in the aether.
I know that it ain’t normal thanking stars but it ain’t normal seeing stars
outshine the London streetlights either.
So make up your old bed and check the drawers for clothes
cause everything outside the world is telling us it’s time it’s to go.
I could wish against the dawn of day, sit and wish that we could stay
in this room we could wait till the tears come.
Oh but that don’t work for me and you doing things the way we do
it’d be a conch shell stuck to our eardrum.
With every passing minute as a faint heard roar
of a rolling ocean talking about some road we’d never seen before.
I’ve often wondered about a room, about these four walls standing,
keeping better folks than us from the cold rain.
Wondering if every joke that’s told, every cigarette that’s rolled,
every song sung, sinks in the wood grain.
If every whisper on the floor and every christmas carol
saturates the surface like the whiskey soaking into a barrel.
Now If I could I’d pull them down every wall by the panel
and I’d build a tree in our back garden.
Maybe we could sit beneath it naked reading Paradise Lost
while the green leaves color and harden.
But watch now how the sun is gathering in the blinds
and the time is coming quick for you and me to leave this big old room behind.
Now when the roses bloom this year and our soul’s up in our ears
with some newer music sung in a strange place.
oh and all the songs will move through us, giving music to the thrush
and every trash can alley a new face,
we’ll let them linger to their end and watch them go without grieving
cause that music as it moves, will let you understand it best when it’s leaving.
And the last thing we’ll leave is a love song for this vacant room
sunk in the walls, and trapped like the ocean enshelled – with everything else we ever exhaled.