I watch the steam from your tea glass as it swirls through the room Reminds me of the way the sun Twirls it's fingers through the summer air And digs them deep into the pavement. I watch the clouds break to pieces in the blue Yorkshire sky Reminds me of the way a flame Waves its fragile hand to softly paint Black-white ripples on a candle wick. I know what I know, it can only have grown From the roots of something older. And all that I am is my tongue and my hands, All the rest, it just ends up at the same stem. Go like the rivers arm dancing its crooked form Out through the countryside where everything is light. I wish that I could be half of that perfect ideal Just to be what I am And nothing more But I know what I know, it can only have grown From the roots of something older. And all that is my tongue and my hands, All the rest, it just ends up as the same... I watch my mind as it staggers and slips from my past To somewhere long after today, Just to keep up with these restless days And not be frightened how they're changing me.