Now in this faraway land

Strange that the palms of my hands

Should be damp with expectancy



Spring, and the air's turning mild

City lights and the glimpse of a child

Of the alleyway infantry



Friends - do they know what I mean?

Rain and the gathering green

Of an afternoon out of town



But lord I had to go

The trail was laid too slow behind me

To face the call of fame

Or make a drunkard's name for me

Though now this better life

Has brought a different understanding

And from these endless days

Shall come a broader sympathy

And though I count the hours

To be alone's no injury



My home was a place by the sand

Cliffs and a military band

Blew an air of normality



composed by:

Bill Bruford

David Cross

Robert Fripp

Jamie Muir

Richard Palmer-James

John Wetton