Foy Vance
Closed Hand, Full of Friends
The scenery’s changing and it warms my soul
I’m 200 miles down and a long way yet to go
So get your boots on and your walking coat
And we’ll together leave our footprints out upon the virgin snow
That ancient sunrise will soon descend
And we’ll be left here pondering on the things which we can depend
So let’s start over with no means to an end
Just an open-hearted hope and a closed hand, full of friends

Yeah, well, London was all right but I was dead in the water
Couldn’t see it in its light, I couldn’t kneel in its altar
All I wanted was to tear it right down to the ground
But I’m feeling all right now, yeah, I’m feeling all right

Every morning when the coffee’s on
And I rediscover that color in your eyes, in its gold and its bronze
And in the moonlight we'll get the candles going
With the recitations of the parish poets popping on our tongues

Yeah, well, London was all right but I was dead in the water
Couldn’t see it in its light, I couldn’t kneel in its altar
All I wanted was to tear it right down to the ground
And it stank from the feet of its culture
I'd hide away from wolves and the vultures
All they wanted was to tear me right down to the ground
Oh, I’m feeling all right, I am now, yeah, I’m feeling all right
In the recitations of the parish poets
In the buildings, in the burrows, in the Loch Tay boats
I will find my means to an end
With an open-hearted hope and a closed hand, full of friends
In the recitations of the parish poets
In the buildings, in the burrows, in the Loch Tay boats
I will find my means to an end
With an open-hearted hope and a closed hand, full of friends
In the recitations of the parish poets
In the buildings, in the burrows, in the Loch Tay boats
I will find my means to an end
With an open-hearted hope and a closed hand, full of friends
In the recitations of the parish poets
In the buildings, in the burrows, in the Loch Tay boats
I will find my means to an end
With an open-hearted hope and a closed hand, full of friends