Constellations Echo Lanes

Dust of football fields still rising
 To a cardboard moon
 Wreaths of dark linoleum are
 Sailing to the moon
 Tea at the refectory
 Then your fingers start to freeze
 As the nights draw in
 And we drift like smoke
 White nights rise
 Birds all night
 Calling from the downs
 Whin flowers bloom
 Empty rooms
 Walls turn into flowers
 And inside you something changed
 Something falling away
 Constellations echo lanes, the pylons and the still parade
 Constellations echo lanes, the pylons and the still parade
 Constellations echo lanes, the pylons and the still parade
 Constellations echo lanes, the pylons and the still parade
 Constellations echo lanes, the pylons and the still parade
 Constellations echo lanes, the pylons and the still parade