Ink blue sky, Silhouette arms that reach for you. Cold the breath of God, Awash this hallowed isle. Twilight is here, Hold the march of time. England you my England, For yet a little while.
Your life was a precious gift, Thrown, owned, ******, blown. Exquisite youth and sapphire eyes, Faded, wasted, jaded, hated. Your strife was preditors gain, Used, abused, refused, excused.
For the past I have ever raised the glass, It's as close as I can get; Reawakening each drop of lovers poison Thrown down my neck; In memories name again and again I pour out that lament, Reaffirming the love of such great regret. For those years I fumble for the glass, It's the soaking up that always lasts, That warming spirit to my soul But burns cold as ice this eternal toll.
You can dredge your mire of memories, Try and touch those years by way of empties; Pretend to yourself again and again That it was really truly better then. But the dawning light of sobriety Will run dry those lies we tell ourselves, Dim the light of yesteryear; Cast cold the shadow of our today Upon the hangover our past still plays.