Night Watchman

(álbum: Isolation Tapes - 2020)

I'm the nightwatchman
Seeking out words and melody
In need of a bed
In need of a bed

I'm the nightwatchman
Seeking out words and melody
In need of a bed
In need of some head

Standing in the old clothes
That my childhood wore
When I was half as young as I am now
The Machine police build monuments to slobbery
But the Ewe tree laughs still into the wind

Some say yes, and some say no
'Til the sky turns black and blue

I'm the nightwatchman
Seeking out words and melody
In need of a bed
In need of some head

I am looking for the few
Who are waiting in the weeds
Grounded in the now
Sharpening the immortal plough

Standing in the old clothes
By the scantily clad shore
In wool, hand-stitched
By an East wall mother

No more sorrys now
The sea is a healer
I look back on it fondly
As sunlight floods the chamber

You then see what it was I saw
And the sky is an emerald green

The sky is an emerald green