Windscreens and Walls

My curtains are flapping
And the tears are rolling
Over the same sick face
Collecting in the hole
Of the same sick smile

I can make out my dreams
Upon the wall
I can see myself tripping
In the grass
Then calling out to you.
You come running back and
Offer me a hand

I'm driving through dark hills
Listening to the pitch
Of the night
As it runs to keep up because
I'm heading for the ocean
And I'll make it by midnight

I can make out my dreams
Upon the windscreen
I can see myself tripping over the cliff
Then calling out to you
You come running
And look over
Onto the pebbled beach and
Into the sea
And I'm still wishing
After all this time
That you were lying next to me.

Julian Pickles