On good evenings, we walk through the hills, to the top of the hill, the faster dogs, the clouds racing.Sometimes the wind is so high, he does not hear me.Traitor into this place, my cousin ran this.All the blue changes, I'm dizzy sometimes.That the path and the bushes are the same,That the gates are the same,That the lake is the same.You crossed the field out of darkness, you were right.I turn to them and speak.And watch the falling light.And their tittering bitches, and their music,And their tittering bitches, and their music, And their tittering bitches, and their music,And their love.They ask me where I come from.I say of course from the country.Come with me tonight.Where?Anywhere for a while.My visit, my care, will beLike any other visit, any other care.I see something in a tree, a shape, a shadow.When I run.Floating underneath.The horizon moves from the sun.They are sharp at first sight, then smudged then lost,Then glimpsed again, then gone.Feel all the dust drain outLet it goFeel the grit slip awayI look them in their eyesIt's high upDoes it get darkerThe higher you getNoAround me sits the nightSuch a silenceI've had all thatI've got all thatI saidI noddedHe couldShe was looking downYes you canI saidWhat are you sayingI didn't hear youShe saidBut I'm looking at youIt's your head that's bentIn the morningThey wake upSnort a bitCan't do sometimesAnd eatThere aren't anyDon't be stupidI don't like themYou're stupidYou're stupidFor instanceA shot in the treeI found a busScrew itWhere'd you get itHere it isWaitWhat are we 63proporDoes this happenAnd do you remainI'll be fineI'll make everything upShopAll of itAs my eyes closeI see last of lightsI walkTo the busCertainly I can remember the weddingI walk with my girlWho wears a grey blouseTo the bus, to the townCrowdsLike round the marketguitar sologuitar sologuitar solo