"My father says there's only one perfect view -

and that's the view of the sky over our heads"

"I expect your father has been reading Dante"


See my solitude, where once was truth now only doubt

Touch my tortured skin, torn from within and from without

Kiss my blistered lips, my fingertips frost-bitten and grey

Heal my wound within, and watch the dead skin fall away


See what can't be seen, between the table and the chair

Touch what can't be touched, The National Trust don't own the air

Kiss what can't be kissed, this is the risk we have to take

Heal what can't be healed, and feel the dead skin fall away


Only you and I know exactly how it feels

To unblinker a narrow mind

And by doing so reveal the obscurity of life

The intensity of dreams

Only you and I have realised exactly what it means


See the infant sun, whose time has come to climb the mist

Touch the autumn sky, burned by the supernaturalist

Kiss the purest lips, the morning slips into the day

Rising from the bed, we feel our dead skin fall away