Strange that the palms of my hands
Should be damp with expectancy

Spring, and the air's turning mild
City lights and the glimpse of a child
Of the alleyway infantry

Friends - do they know what I mean?
Rain and the gathering green
Of an afternoon out of town

But lord I had to go
The trail was laid too slow behind me
To face the call of fame
Or make a drunkard's name for me
Though now this better life
Has brought a different understanding
And from these endless days
Shall come a broader sympathy
And though I count the hours
To be alone's no injury

My home was a place by the sand
Cliffs and a military band
Blew an air of normality

composed by:
Bill Bruford
David Cross
Robert Fripp
Jamie Muir
Richard Palmer-James
John Wetton