So move indoors, be happy to hide
Avert your gaze as the cinemas die
There is no shame in a smaller world
Become an expert in what you observe
What you observe, what you observe
As the late day peaks come and go
Comes into view on a long-lost road
A single bird sings a sweet old song
A fitting sound for a world so wrong
Deeper beneath ashes and the leaves
A young lonely poet will fall to his knees
A learning curve or impossible dream
Or just some tired and tattered remains
Tattered remains, tattered remains
As the late day peaks come and go
Comes into view on a long-lost road
A single bird sings a sweet old song
A fitting sound for a world so wrong
In the late day peaks of life
There's a moment that always survives
The ghosts in the rooms of your house
Are the roots and keepers of your love