A little sitting room performance after a day in the studio.
Dorset, UK

Lyrics:
All the winds in the branches are blowing
and nobody comes to the door
Sing into the silence
and work out your thoughts for yourself
All the gulls in England are calling
like thoughts of somebody else
Walk into the darkness
Don't turn around, turn around
Clouds scud across the oblivious day
Still smile at the same scenes
The great mother is coming and going
The sun rises and falls through the air
Kid, make your own mess
Don't turn around, turn around

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