"My father says there's only one perfect view    and that's the view of the sky over our heads"   "I expect your father has been reading Dante"      See my solitude, where once was truth now only doubt   Touch my tortured skin, torn from within and from without   Kiss my blistered lips, my fingertips frost-bitten and grey   Heal my wound within, and watch the dead skin fall away      See what can't be seen, beween the table and tha chair   Touch what can't be touched, The National Trust don't own    the air.    Kiss what can't be kissed, this is the risk we have to take   Heal what can't be healed, and feel the dead skin fall away      Only you and I exactly know how it feels   To unblinker a narrow mind   And by doing so reveal the obscurity of life   The intensity of dreams   Only you and I have realised exactly what it means      See the infant sun, whose time has come to climb the mist   Touch the autumn sky, burned by the supernaturlist   Kiss the purest lips, the morning slips into the day   Rising from the bed, we feel our dead skin fall away