Teksty: King Crimson. Larks' Tongues in Aspic. Exiles.

Now...in this faraway land
Strange...that the palms of my hands
Should be damp with expectancy

Spring...and the air's turning mild
City lights...and the glimpse of a child
Of the alleyway infantry

Friends...do they know what I mean
Rain...and the gathering green
Of an afternoon out-of-town

But Lord I had to go
My trail was laid too slow behind me
To face the call of fame
Or make a drunkard's name for me
Though now this other life
Has brought a different understanding
And from these endless days
Shall come a broader sympathy
And though I count the hours
To be alone's no injury...

My home...was a place near the sand
Cliffs...and a military band
Blew and air of normality