We made our bed that night
The blood was red as poppies our fingernails were white
Arc lamps shimmered softly and reflected beads of light
In the needles and the knives

When the wind is fair and the day is fine
Rising upwards on the tide
You come to mind

Out on the icepack out in the cold
Out in the blue-rinsed fields of snow
Out in the storm’s force out on your own
Far out of the warmth of your comfort zone
Out of my depth, out in the wild
Out by a hundred thousand miles
Under the bridge, going over the line
Going outside now for all time
Going Outside

Mirror mirror once and for all
Scattered shadows mark your path along the hall
I heard your footsteps heard the whisper of the door
And the quiet waterfall

You are the best part of me
The songs no one remembers, the books no one will read
Plans for great adventures made with fake identities
To all the worlds I’ve never seen

But stepping through the looking glass
Echoes of my features cast
Evoke the past

Weather warning, sick and yawning, streetlamps lit on winter mornings
Tempest tossing, dirty washing, slowing down for the pelican crossing
Train crashes, Channel dashes, Halloween and Ballet classes
Berlin wall and Brighton pier – back in fifteen years
I’m going outside