The garden sliding past is overwhelming
Receding through an unreal windowpane
Through watercolour mornings by the newsagents
To nights we carry, carry away
The headlights on the driveway are a mirage
From fields that stretch into the empty night
Unreal inside this windowpane, we pass them
Deliver me to bars and crowds and lights
Writer(s): Alasdair David Maclean, James Mark Hornsey, Mark Nicholas Keen
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