Wednesday Overcast
Archy Marshall
I heard you were back in the country
Looking for me
And that your heart was broken
And your head was clean
Down here on the carpet
Stale smoke and rich dreams
A motel in Carmel
And empty stomach of weed
Left me in outer space
Reasons for your need
St-stuck here, no answers
No peace
A train to the coast
For hours once a week
In the pub corner
Surrounded by creeps
They spoke of the violence
And racist police
And old red bricks
And ten cups of tea
This place was forgotten
From history
I lay in silence
Before we arranged to meet
The mirror was small
And behind lots of trees
My head was empty
My life was discreet
A lot has changed
Now a lot means to me