Sat in the corner of the Garden Grill, with plastic flowers on the window sil
No more miracles, loaves and fished, been so busy with the washing of the dishes
Reaction level's much too high - I can do without the stimuli
I'm living way beyong my ways and means, living in the zone of the inbetweens
I can see the flashes on the frozen ocean, static charge of the cold emotion
Watched on by the distant eyes - watched on by the silent hidden spies
But still the warmth flows through me
And I sense you know me well
No luck, no golden chances
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