My childhood, lopsided, crumbs, trouble, clear-sighted and leaning up
Against the Sellotape the apples back on while they were ripe, sticking to
Our story every time

We stood there, same mischief, same background, shame-chagrin with hands
Behind our backs and our eyes faced down. We'd celebrate the victory of
Buckets and doors, smiling all the way out the front door

How I longed to hold her hand, how I longed to touch her face, how I longed
To hear a sound, come from that phone, from far across the town

That night when all went to hell I thought we'd never see the thorns pulled
Out of our poor old toes. We'd imitate the noises that we thought we should
Make, howling at the wind and our mistakes

How I longed to touch her hand, how I longed to see her face, how I longed
To hear a sound, come from that voice, from far across the land