January was a long one
And February followed through
I’ve got two hands but no pockets
To pack these long months into
There’s nothing out there but a strange world
Where nothing stays and nothing goes
I have felt the touch of many
And I know, I know, how it shows
And in the springtime comes the washing
A city damp and hung to dry
Day is long now to answer
The call, the fall of the night
Ghosts like these ones, they have come a long way
The distance they have gone is echoed by the pace
Come a long way
You dream in colours never spoken
You dream of people who have died
And in the silver light of morning
You breathe a brand new morning sigh

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