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