These New Puritans....Some of these trees have been growing for years.....

the leaves on the floor must be five metres deep, the paths are a labyrinth or even a trap, some tides don't turn some things never come back. Secret recordings were made in the marsh, I bore a hole in the tree just to see, Knights dance in molecules, here's Gallahad, They're rising back up, they're rising back up. Shadows dance back up, it's happening again, If you listen carefully you might hear them whisper:, "We hold all the secrets, we hold all the words; but they're, scrambled and broken so you'll never know" (And that the Thames flows beneath the grass) Can't you see them floating like black ash?Can't you feel them crawling down your back? Can't you feel them breathing down your neck? Sea breeze, sea breeze....