Waiting for the 7.18

Waiting for the 7. 18, January is endless
Weary-eyed and forlorn, the Northorn Line is the loudest
Sitting in silence in bars after work
I've got nothing to add or contest
Can I still kick a ball a hundred yards?
Now we cling to bottles and memories of the past

Just give me moments, not hours or days

Grinding your teeth in the middle of the night
Let the sadness off those molars
Spend all your spare time trying to escape
With crosswords and Sudoku

If I could do it again I'd make more mistakes
I'd not be so scared of falling
If I could do it again I'd climb more on trees
I'd pick and I'd eat more wild blackberries

Just give me moments, not hours or days

Let's drive to Brighton on the weekend