she is far

blues and greys and greens across the river, we went into winter london parks, my darling, monuments for blood spilt in foreign lands, it's on our hands, it's all across our faces, photographs in paper bags, and she is far, she's getting so much further every day, well, youth was no excuse but i'll excuse you still, for every single dirty magazine, my darling, monuments on margate sands staples across your hands, and all across your face, photographs in paper bags, and she is far, and she is getting further every day, and every river underneath the city flows with tears, and there's a new garden flooding every day, photographs in paper bags, and she is far, and she is getting further every day