The air is perfumed with fresh rosemary's And the wild springs with lush berries Their presence colours the nursery with a sweet loom It bleeds into the forecast for tomorrow's gloom Nostalgia hits hard, heartbreaking and eerie For a day when I wasn't paranoid and weary Well, I'll be down by the Brighton pier Watching birds float past in lonely fear I'd love to turn away
The pristine sun shines like Hades The outside scent is yellow, maybe Little daises laugh in the foreground Gardens sow a loving sound Once I could see hope in the trees And the love that whispered on the breeze Now the trees foreshadow longing And the gale howls with wronging I'd love to turn away
The intimacy in my yellow tinted flowers seems to have faded And the soft orchards have been invaded My words burnt in a smouldering pile of dust And steaming with the heat of my lust I told a crowd I had something to say But the people turned away away away...