Dust of football fields still rising To a cardboard moon Wreaths of dark linoleum are Sailing to the moon Tea at the refectory Then your fingers start to freeze As the nights draw in And we drift like smoke White nights rise Birds all night Calling from the downs Whin flowers bloom Empty rooms Walls turn into flowers And inside you something changed Something falling away Constellations echo lanes, the pylons and the still parade Constellations echo lanes, the pylons and the still parade Constellations echo lanes, the pylons and the still parade Constellations echo lanes, the pylons and the still parade Constellations echo lanes, the pylons and the still parade Constellations echo lanes, the pylons and the still parade