Tiny

In tiny rhythms is this code

That breaks itself down as it goes

It speaks in simple easy prose

If you look and you listen, you will know

That I've turned to face the wind

But I can't be up there long at all

It's the air and I've tried, but I can't

(Oh, I can't)

'Cause it's bloody freezing in the dark

And burning up by dawn

I've turned to face the wind

But I might turn my back again

And it feels like Sunday afternoon

Downtown, the people have all long gone home

(Gone home)

The shops all shuttered on empty roads

But you just keep on keepin' on

I've turned to face the wind

And I might turn my back again