Closed Hand, Full of Friends

The scenery's changing
And it warms my soul
I'm two hundred miles down and a long way yet to go
So get your boots on
And your walking coat
And we'll together leave our footprints out upon the virgin snow
That ancient sunrise
Will soon descend
And we'll be left here pondering on the things which we can depend
So let's start over
With no means to an end
Just an open-hearted hope and a closed hand, full of friends
Yeah, well, London was alright but I was dead in the water
Couldn't see in its light, I couldn't kneel at its altar
All I wanted was to tear it right down to the ground
But I'm feeling alright now,
Yeah, I'm feeling alright
Every morning
When the coffee's on
And I rediscover that color in your eyes, and it's gold and it's bronze
And in the moonlight
We'll get the candles going
With the recitations of the Parish Poets popping on our tongues
Yeah, well, London was alright but I was dead in the water
Couldn't see in its light, I couldn't kneel at its altar
All I wanted was to tear it right down to the ground
And then sing from the fleeting-less culture
And hide it away from all the wolves and the vultures
All they wanted was to tear me right down to the ground
But I'm feeling alright now
Yeah, I'm feeling alright
In the recitations of the Parish Poets
In the building of the bowers and in the Loch Tay boats
I will find my means to an end
With an open-hearted hope and a closed hand, full of friends
[x4]