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Swinging Through The Seasons
The Pogues brought me swinging through the seasons
From that sleepy sorrowful little fishing town in the south of England
On August evenings drunk, happy/sad
Lost in thoughts of a supposed heaven
To Christmas Eve in an airless factory
The world will be full of sorrows, eternally
She tweets like a little bird
Soft, sweet and melodic
Wrapped in cotton and a virginal white long sleeved top
She embraces the needy and smiles for those who have no hope
She’s in love
With you and me and everyone
Though she’ll never be our destiny
We will all remember how she carried herself, always
From that sleepy sorrowful little fishing town in the south of England
On August evenings drunk, happy/sad
Lost in thoughts of a supposed heaven
To Christmas Eve in an airless factory
The world will be full of sorrows, eternally
She tweets like a little bird
Soft, sweet and melodic
Wrapped in cotton and a virginal white long sleeved top
She embraces the needy and smiles for those who have no hope
She’s in love
With you and me and everyone
Though she’ll never be our destiny
We will all remember how she carried herself, always
Published 18th Dec 2013
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