It'shardtoseemtobeokwhenyou'renot

I’m looking in through these whitewashed windows,
Try to remember what no one knows,
Try to remember what brought me here.

It’s hard to seem to be ok when you’re not,
It’s so far away it’s not even a dream you’ve got

Nursing a glass, you see the art work and you see your face,
Like a reflection and when you leave here you wont leave a trace,
Like a reflection there is a door to another place,
It’s just a door to another place.

It’s hard to seem to be ok when you’re not,
It’s so far away it’s not even a dream you’ve got,
You wake up in tears and you’re pinned by the fear about the time you’ve got.

I Don't Want To Die Here

The first time I left home I didn’t make it on my own,
With the money running out I went reaching for the phone,
Digging holes and building walls in the dark and in the rain,
When I set off for the second time I didn’t think that I’d be here again

Oh it seems like a lifetime 
Its still so clear
I loaned this land some children
But I don’t want to die here

I reckon Salmon can recall the underwater sound,
Of the currents of creation shifting gravel in their hatching grounds,
With their noses pointed upstream as they dream of the ocean waves,
They’re fearless and they’re defenceless as they leave their cradles and their graves.

This place where you were born, old faces on its stones, the inside of your bones
are inscribed with the lyrics of the official song and one day you’ll be master,
No one alive today remembers when this tradition first began 
but I have got a pal whose grandad was born forty years before it started.

The slick cobblestones reflecting seventies festoons,
A drunken county rallies round ideas like sad balloons.
The Salmon’s not content to stay back bringing up the rear,
He’s got to move like silver lightning and I don’t want to fucking die here.

Dark Secret

If I have a dark secret, 
Then I don’t know what it is,
If I had a hard childhood,
Then I can’t remember it,
Born on the Isle of horses,
Where there’s nothing else to do,
Some say it’s god’s own country,
It wasn’t that for me or you

Oh, I didn’t go to school you know,
Oh, it’s a wonder that I’m here at all. 

When we get to the bottom of the bottle,
I am reminded of my childhood bed
And when I see you through the bottom of the bottle,
I know that we won’t leave despite the things we said.

We all drink like fishes,
And we act out how we feel,
Punching holes in plaster,
Getting naked to feel real,
Here comes the latest comedown
And it tastes just like the last,
This town’s as good as your town
And any others you might have passed.

Oh, I’m like a river bed formed long ago,
Tangled and slow, all twisted up in lazy bows.