Lionmouth Door Knocker

At any given moment in the middle of a city

There's a million epiphanies occurring

In the blurring of the world beyond the curtain

And the world within the person

There's a quiver in the litter in the alley where he's singing

People meet by chance, fall in love, drift apart again

Underage drinkers walk the park and watch the dark descend

The workers watch the clocks, fiddle with their parker pens

While the grandmothers haggle with the market men

Here, where the kids play and laugh until they fall apart

It's kiss, chase, and dancing till there's mistakes in darkened rooms

Too fast, too soon, too slow, too long

Move around all day, but we can't move on

Is anybody else awake?

Will it ever be day again?

Is anybody else awake?

Will it ever be day again?

Overflowing plant pots, fence posts, decorated door numbers

Motor black beneath a tarp, beating up Pinto

Goal posts painted on that green garage door

There's a rainbow on that wheelie bin, there's stickers in that window

Smart flats, rough flats, can't get enough cat flats, you know

Seventeen cat flats, rich flats, broke flats

New flats, old flats, luxury bespoke flats

And this has got to be a joke flats

Pensioners, toddlers, immigrants, and Englishmen

Families with six kids, single business woman

Look, everybody's here tryna make or scrape a living

A fox freezes on the alley wall and stands still, sniffing

Bare branches sway in the front garden

The lionmouth door knocker flaps in the breeze

Streetlights glint on the beware of the dog signs

The beer cans and crisp packets dance with the dead leaves

It's 4:18 AM

At this very moment, on this very street

Seven different people in seven different flats

Are wide awake, they can't sleep

Now, of all these people in all these houses

Only these seven are awake

And they shiver in the middle of the night

Counting their sheepish mistakes

Is anybody else awake?

Will it ever be day again?

Is anybody else awake?

Will it ever be day again?

We start on the corner with our backs against the wall

Next to the old phone box where the tramp leaves his bedding

The road runs ahead of you, houses and flats either side, walk down

Go past the yard with the caravans, there, behind the hedges