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Hear, a West Wind calling
I hear it calling my name
Snow, on Greenland falling
The ice is melting away
Sitting in a greenhouse painted green
None to be picked and none to be seen
Standing by a harbour soaking rain
Why must the sky bring rain back again
Wake, an angel talking
She's asking black, white or nun
Drake, from Plymouth streaking
He sinks the galleons with the guns
Climbing up a creeper chasing flies
Unzip their wings and look in their eyes
Standing on a steeple stitching time
Time to be saved and time to be nine
Footsteps in a blizzard point the way to go
Heads of marble snow men, miles and miles from home
Sleeping on an Interstellar Plane
Sitting in a greenhouse painted green
None to be picked and none to be seen
Sleeping on an Interstellar Plane
Will we return to find it again