It's a cold blue dawn,
As the crystal tear-drops fall,
A grey pavement wait,
and a dull train's call.
It's a brown, muddy walk,
and the crunch of the grains of sand
on sharp black shoes,
and the call of the sky to hear his song,
to set eyes upon the beauty
of puffs of dull grey
and the crunch of brown mud
and the bland wait on pavements.