Bridges and rivers And buildings pulled down Time spent in places my footsteps had found Mirrors in ballrooms lie smashed on the ground, Walking with November mists...
Pathways and windows And movies in May Quiet old ladies who soon pass away Paintings and songs that I'd done in a day... Going round in my head...
Fires on spires and chimneys of black Fields on horizons with pylons that crack With singing sad wires of council house mystics To apply their statistics And read the tea leaves, Time knows no limits for days such as these.
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