To walk the road between land and sea,
Thinking of thinking and thinking to be.
On one there is nature,
On one there is stone.
I'm trodding the street,
The street on my own.
The moonlit grey and my wasted day,
They both lead me down to the House Of Cray.
And the endless pits,
Of the end of my wits,
There's a part of me,
Which doesn't quit.
I'm walking down the street alone,
Where a fire burns in every bone.
All I hear is a fading sound.
I've been dim all day but I stuck around.
And as dusk descends,
I don't head back home,
I continue to walk,
Continue to roam.
- ASK
