The pilgrim asked where's your father now? He's in bed, he's long since been dead My mother fell from the angels in the cloud To her rest in the soil of the west She drew a seam from a Singer machine A needle drilled into patchwork quilts My father had said, it wasn't good enough So she coughed up jewels in her blood A painted shell A piece of veil I stand alone, watching upset souls By the sea, shimmering lovingly In the dusk, my heart becomes a rusk Ignite my soul A diamond from a piece of coal A subtle dream, an intoxicating scheme We rise above all the heavenly A little dome We'll fly forever home I was born in an East London sky To a chance buried deep inside A painted shell A piece of veil I stand alone, watching upset souls By the sea, shimmering lovingly In the dusk, my heart becomes a rusk