There were bright skies in my city today. Everything was sinking said rain would come on Sunday. The old school was due. And the traffic grew upon the Westway. Where I stood watching comets' lonesome trails. Shining up above me the jet fuel it fell. Down to earth. Where the money always comes first. And the sirens sing. Bring us the day they switch off the machines. 'Cause men in yellow jackets putting adverts. Inside my dreams. An automated song and the whole world gone. Fallen under the spell of the distance between us. When we communicate. Still picking up short wave. Somewhere they're out in space. It depends how you're wired. When the night's on fire. Under the Westway. Now its magic arrows hitting the bull. Doing 180 still standing at last call. When the flags coming down. And the last post sounds just like a love song. For the way I feel about you. Paradise's not lost it's in you. On a permanent basis I apologise. But I am going to sing. Hallelujah singing out loud and sing it to you. Am I lost out at sea til a tide wash me up off the Westway