Voices filling the time between the hours.
Songs and interludes and news.
A world within a box in the corner.
The world within a box in the corner.

Companion: radio.

"I'll write to you from the road."
I can't be here right now, stifled,
with the mundanity of our daily load.

I want to live with my hands,
I want to send postcards.
Words of far away lands.

Perhaps if I run out of stamps, or
Places to see I'll return,
And maybe I'll buy some more.

Monkey's on my back again,
Sat on its throne.
Lording over it's dominion,
Making itself at home.

Let the sky fall in on itself.
Soak away my misery,
Wash away my hurt,
Drown my despair.

Add my teardrops to the deluge.

Sail away with me on my gigantic whale.
Until the waves ripple and roll and swallow the land.
And in your salted eyes of open ocean,
We'll find a new home upon the blue.

Meeting you seemed so spontaneous,
Besides your smile you seemed dangerous.
We snuck off early in the evening,
Away from the party that was still singing.
Ambled round with no intentions,
Somewhere quiet without interventions.
Hands entwined discussing nothing,
But seemingly covering absolutely everything.

Stopping off to have a midnight tea,
In that moment 'you and I' became 'we'.
Walked you home, sun was dawning,
You wore my jumper and filled with yearning.
The birds awoke to call our daylight,
Contemplating the last kiss of our night.
One last look outside your front door,
Then I knew life would never be as before.