Been climbing trees I've skinned my knees 
My hands are black the sun is going down 
She scruffs my hair in the kitchen steam 
She's listening to the dream I weaved today 
Crosswords through the bathroom door 
While someone sings the theme-tune to the news 
And my sister buzzes through the room leaving perfume in the air 
And that's what triggered this. 
I come back here from time to time 
I shelter here some days. 

A high-back chair. He sits and stares 
A thousand yards and whistles 
Marching-band (Boom-ching) 
Kneeling by and speaking up 
He reaches out and I take a 
Massive hand. Disjointed tales 
That flit between short trousers 
And a full dress uniform 
And he talks of people ten years 
Gone like I've known them all my life 
Like scattered black 'n' whites….