[Written by Steven Wilson]

Ghosts in the park

Appear just after dark
Killers, children ...
But no-one has a harp

They look like tourists
It makes me want to laugh


Under floorboards
It's hard to fly a kite
Underwater

My cigarette won't light
Standing in the shade
I'm getting frostbite


Strange as I seem
I'm getting stranger by the minute

Look in my dreams
They're getting stranger by the minute


When I'm drowning
You drag me up to you
Rings in the water

My only residue
But you're just fiction
And I'm a twisted boy