There's a place that we can go at the end of a long, slow day
Street lamps fuse the rising night, I feel so far away
When you came in late from the garden, I couldn't turn my eyes
And I was dead
Outside in the crowded places, ships are sailing through the wood
Impossible
Leaving in the space between the Bovis homes, the railway heath
Impossible
I can see my freedom but I need a little time
Your hair wet and your arms full
You were dead, you were alive
Looking in the heart of light, looking into the silence
From those nights so frigid
They seemed hardly real
Through the last light on the plain
Roland to the dark tower came