The Premises of a Life That Could Have Been Yours

Now there's a different handwriting
In the logbook in the boiler room
Only the draught from the window frames
Reminds me what is due

Now the green moss grows

And crumbling cement sings
Sings in the dusk
Sings in your direction

The crumbling cement sings
Sings through the night
Longs for your direction
Evermore
Longs

And the patterns in the floorboards
All point in your direction
But the pictures on the storyboard
Are outlines with no cues

Now the green moss grows on the patio tiles
And the water runs on the chimney's sides
And the new age comes

And crumbling cement sings
Sings in the dusk
Sings in your direction

The crumbling cement sings
Sings through the night
Longs for your direction
Evermore

The wheat field and the birch still remain
Turn in your direction
The courtyard and the well
All the premises

Long for your direction
Evermore
Will evermore
Will evermore
Will evermore