My childhood, lopsided, crumbs, trouble, clear-sighted and leaning up Against the Sellotape the apples back on while they were ripe, sticking to Our story every time We stood there, same mischief, same background, shame-chagrin with hands Behind our backs and our eyes faced down. We'd celebrate the victory of Buckets and doors, smiling all the way out the front door How I longed to hold her hand, how I longed to touch her face, how I longed
To hear a sound, come from that phone, from far across the town That night when all went to hell I thought we'd never see the thorns pulled Out of our poor old toes. We'd imitate the noises that we thought we should Make, howling at the wind and our mistakes How I longed to touch her hand, how I longed to see her face, how I longed To hear a sound, come from that voice, from far across the land