From the bannister I can see you cough and blast rainbows
Twenty seven summers press against the powder room windows
On returning eyes are lerning the language of your wrists
You twist them towards the chandalier and say who will be my witness?
On a beaded rug with jerusalem hymn watching the trawalers roll in
Lets start at the begining the drunk shouts whos your taylor on the preface
Of a power failer salashing out it's drakness
The steep ie riggers round the spires scramble
For holy work lights on great hooks hanging
You starigen your coif and mimic a stiff
The jurys back and its a crushing blow
For those who wish you ill and woe
You are the lake district
You dont need to speek
It wirtes in the air in chalk
Like subtitles walk across a foreign film screen
From the landing i can hear your hay-baled laughter singing
It breaks the white hourse hearts of all those assembling
To be an ornament that sparkles its clear those here would kill
But there's nowhere to hide if you become a city on the hill
On a beaded rug with jerusalem hymn watching the trawiers roll in
Lets start at the begining in a dingy parlor by a mantle swooning
With the ancient caverans of your eyes welling
The tail of russian headscarf landing
On your collar bone from your blouse protruding
You tighten your belt so its closer felt
The jurys back and its a crushing blow
For those who wish you ill and woe
You are the lake district
Marry me
In a registry
Like a foreign film scene
Let others publish our faults
Take my hand and we will walts
Below the cathedra i vaults
Spinning like a foreign film reel