Bedshaped

Many's the time I ran with you down, the rainy roads of our old town, many the lives we lived in each day, and buried altogether, don't laugh at me, don't look away...

You'll follow me back, with the sun in your eyes, and on your own, bedshaped, and legs of stone, you'll knock on my door, and up we'll go, in white light, I don't think so, but what do I know? I know!