Drifting dream silent film   Words with no sound   Half closed eyes    A dusk bathed scene   Onwards and sunrise bound      Ripples in the inkwell   And colour sparks a sound   With quickening light reflections are   Made on the sunrise bound      If it was real   I wouldn’t speak a sound   If it was real, if it was real    I wouldn’t speak a sound      ‘Cause hushed words are louder somehow   Yes hushed words are louder when you’re sunrise bound      The curlew speaks the end of night   The sea she laps the sound   The rocks they turn from red and gold   Onwards and sunrise bound      Fields of early purist green   With trees cast on the ground   And holly grows in beech wood shade   Hidden from sunrise bound