french downs
squared in by town
under covered stories
bought by a city

cared for by a staircase
i'd seem by the trains
losing to another smile i hid

she's not there, anymore
scared to scratch the glass
her ways tended to go, early in the day

in Britain i could walk
without falling as hard
as hard as sheets
preaching drum lessons
and her, her hiding dance again

no soul to give today ***
i gotta gig running a pond down
there's a guy and a gal
we go at it all morning day
bringing the salt out of the rivers

too bad about your career softy