Marillion

There was a boy who came into this world at the hands of a holy woman in a
holy place
He wore a red coat and walked a bulldog-saw them reflected in the mirror of
the lakes
Lived in the shadow of the mountains with the smells of disinfectant,
dusty old leather and the polished wood of his bed
No more than a baby feeding swans on the river holding the hands of his
mother,
and the wax paperbag of yesterdays bread
And his father on the other side of the world
On the ships railings and some far away tide
With the silent dry tear of home thoughts from abroad in his far away eyes
In his faraway eyes
The smell of the wax on the wooden floor
Mixture of polish and soap
No children to fear or to play with
Rows of empty hooks for the coats
An upright piano and the boys in the choir
Still remind him of just before he was born
Remind him of just before he was breathing
Strange misty visions of God
Turn the cities into families
Into villages of souls
Hovering in the air while they're sleeping
With their houses invisible
Running as fast as I could run
Send to me the ghosts of Christmas
Whispering: You're the only one
And ever since I was a boy
I never felt that I belonged
Like everything they did to me
Was an experiment to see
How I would cope with the illusion
In which direction would I jump
Would I do it all the same
As the actors in the game
Or would I spit it back at them
And not get caught up in their rules
And live according to my own
And not be used
To find the fundamental truths
It was going to take some time
Thirty five summers down the line
The wisdom of each passing year
Seems to serve only to confuse
Daddy came out the navy and took us away to his dirty gray home town
And he worked down on a coal mine for National Service so that he could be
around
There was a magical purple in the chrome of the exhaust of his triumph motor