Buried in dust and covered in moss from a sticky chair I watch
this storm and even in the summertime, I've never known,
I've never known, I've never known a room so warm.
 
  Buried in dust and swimming in sweat, scared to move and
drenched in piss, even in the summertime I didn't think,
I didn't think, I didn't think that it would come to this.
 
  Rain plops down on a parking car and a hot tar road
steams and a movement on the mantelpiece where the clock said one and
the clock said two and the clock said three and I wonder what it means.
 

Into my room and under my bed I'd often wondered where you went.
You said that I should see this storm, I didn't think, I didn't think,
I didn't think that this is what you meant.
 
 
  Into my room like a boy who'd slam the sun appears and creeps across
the floor and shined on top of chapter one, I read the words,
I read the words, I ate the book and wanted more.
 
 
  The sun drops down   on a nice clean car

and a pigeon drops into the road outside.