It's a bit windy out on the balcony, but I stand here watching clouds form funny figures in the sky, I'd like another coffee which is warmer than the balcony and that means going back inside,

so I did,

hair looks like a crow's nest and I do my best to comb it straight,
am I still allowed to say straight?
a voice from somewhere says,
'yeah, too right mate'

It's funny what you think of when you're not thinking too much and there's too much of not thinking, I think that we should stay in touch, send a letter, send some flowers, say hello, how do you do..and now I have to run, catch the tube-train, work a day again, hope it doesn't rain again,

windy on the balcony sounds very good to me.