It's 5am Walking down to the station again Christmas lights flood the village and then A hush of white Soaking and cold What does it mean now to have and to hold Truthmakers lie in the ground Theories abound But you and I We press our palms And reach for the sky There's a face in the cloud I don't recognise That stares down on you and I And in the hills I hear echoes of speeches I've made I have no money, but for my words, They linger long in the shade The shade is the place I lay my head, rest my case All my battles behind me now Still theories abound Hush little child Don't be afraid Of the winters cloud There's a man on the street And there's poetry In what he shouts out loud