On nights like this Death cannot come too soon
as I lay awake, on my bed, in my room
and hours fall on me like drops of rain from a leaking ceiling
they quickly form a pond, around me first,
eventualy inside me, a deep well of bitter water
When I wake up, the neighbours' grand oak tree has been blown off its roots
Taking with it half the garden fence, some of the roof
and the new concrete garage - now reduced to rubble
Atop my own roof my grandfather's weathervane
spins wildly and triumphant
having conjured up a storm
How much my life has changed since I met you
as I lay awake, on my bed, in my room
and hours fall on me like drops of rain from a leaking ceiling
they quickly form a pond, around me first,
eventualy inside me, a deep well of bitter water
When I wake up, the neighbours' grand oak tree has been blown off its roots
Taking with it half the garden fence, some of the roof
and the new concrete garage - now reduced to rubble
Atop my own roof my grandfather's weathervane
spins wildly and triumphant
having conjured up a storm
How much my life has changed since I met you