(Difford/Tilbrook)
Power station by the river
Grinding slowly to a stop
Clock still ticking on the mantle
Flames still flicker on the log
Coffee brewing in the kitchen
Where the door is open wide
Glass upon a hoovered carpet
Eyes are glowing in the night
ItЎЇs the silence you can see
Hearing shadows behind me
All the buildings standing empty
All the trains are standing still
Cars are scattered by the roadside
ThereЎЇs no top upon the hill
Nails have scratched upon the outside
Of the empty chapel door
But I donЎЇt think that the father
Wants to live there anymore
ThereЎЇs no bone for you to pick
No more wax around the wick
Shot the arrow from the circle
At the apple on the tree
From a garden that was Eden
Strange the fruit it bears for me
And the wind will spread the fire
And the rain will ever fall
If no one reads the writing