At ten past eight,
I'm leaving home,
We'll drive along the bypass 'til we find that road.
The coastal road,
To somewhere new,
Where they don't treat the drink they drink as something they should cling on to.
At ten past nine,
I'll take that flight,
And yes we're looking older now but you live this way you're bound to.
We'll wave goodbye,
To all that grey,
But at least a climate where the seasons mark out with distinctive change.
And tomorrow am,
We'll start anew,
In a village where the people there can talk about religious views,
Without the need,
Of laws in reams.
Or the worry that the words you use will light some all engulfing fuse.
The blue skies the green fields i keep them all in here...
The blue skies the green fields i keep them all in here...
The blue skies the green fields i keep them all in here...
The blue skies the green fields i keep them all in here...
And tomorrow am,
In somewhere new,
In a different place you feel the weight of everything you've been through.
So I've got to change,
I need to change,
Cos I don't talk to you no more without the need of fear or rage.
The speeches, the anthem, the law with no momentum; I cannot give myself to you.
We're so much older now we need a new home town, a place that we can call our own.
And doll you're proof enough that people are some good they just need space where they can grow.
With speeches and anthems the shape and size of this one, they just need space where they can grow.
The blue skies the green fields i keep them all in here...
The blue skies the green fields i keep them all in here...
The blue skies the green fields i keep them all in here...
The blue skies the green fields I'm tired of keeping them in here.