Wilder tricycling down the ring-road
Under baited eyes and baited skies
Dear God, let him be safe and right
The tower looks beautiful tonight
Take the fast route to the ring-road
May you never ever get home
We are living in the wrong time in the wrong skin
There is nothing that we really own
Ours will be bones
All that is solid melts into air
Safe inside, see two worlds colliding, spit, struggle
A Brownfield site, a new way of life
Such a formidable price to pay
These panels of green and grey and gold
Ours will be bones
All that is solid melts into air