A Song About The Sky

Somebody tune the old guitar,

the evening's asking for it.

No occasion, no announcements,

nothing needing marking.

The tea's gone round, the chairs are out,

the street's gone soft and amber,

and the sky is doing that thing it does

that nobody's ever named right.

So for once — for once —

Tonight's a song about the sky.

That's it. That's the whole of it.

No moral in it, no before,

just the colour it goes when it goes.

Sing a song about the sky

because it's up there,

and we felt like it.

Somebody's laughing two doors down

at nothing anyone can find.

Somebody's fallen half asleep

mid-word, and no one moved them.

The night's not guarding anything.

The song's not teaching anything.

It's just the air going warm

where all the breathing is.

So for once — for once —

Tonight's a song about the sky.

That's it. That's the whole of it.

No moral in it, no before,

just the colour it goes when it goes.

Sing it once more for the sky

because it's still up there —

and so, somehow, are we.

And after all the heavy songs,

here's one that carries nothing —

(and look how far it floats)

Tonight's a song about the sky.

That's it. That's the whole of it.

No moral in it, no before,

just the colour it goes when it goes.

Sing a song about the sky

because it's up there,

and we felt like it —

and there's nothing else it costs.

Aaah — aaah — aaah — aaah —

Aaah — aaah —