Poets Day

200 Miles apart, away from home with a lonely working heart
A mobile phone and my tools chucked in the car
I'm up before the dawn, I think of you and how you keep my body warm
I lace my boots up, I pull my overalls on

Now the boys are telling tales of last nights jokes and drinks and flirting with the girls
How Fletch attempts to cheat his wife and every night he fails
And I call each night at nine, sat in the digs you say the kids are doing fine
Your mum came round this evening and she drank too much white wine

And you are so beautiful
You're the woman of my making
You are so beautiful
My heart is yours for taking

You are the shooting stars
The aeroplanes the trains the cars
The young men singing in the pubs
The old man's smile of forgotten love
The ocean bed, the mountain top
The village green the corner shop
You are all the words I say
You are my POETS Day

Now I'm working all the time
The house just eats my wages, but you say we're getting by
We're bouncing round the credit cards and selling stuff online
I've twelve days on, two days off
The lads all drink for England or until they all throw up
In the corner of a northern town my kids are growing up

And you are all, beautiful
You're the reason why I'm working
You are all, beautiful
But my heart is slowly breaking

You are the shooting stars
The aeroplanes the trains the cars
The young men singing in the pubs
The old man's smile of remembered love
The ocean bed, the mountain top
The village green the corner shop
You are all the words I say
You are my POETS Day