I’m too short for this time of year, she says
As the sun shone low through the screen
I’m too old for this much beer, he says
As the room around him spins

And I am tilting at windmills
I’m forever falling apart
I’m calling at angels
I’m forever falling into a stranger’s welcoming arms

I’m too old for these kinds of dream, he says
Grabs his hat and heads for the door
But a voice inside him sings, he stops,
stops and turns his eyes to the floor

And I am tilting at windmills
I’m forever falling apart
I’m calling at angels
I’m forever falling into a stranger’s welcoming arms

There’s a bitterness inside that is burnt up and burnt out
It’s dried up and ready to die
But there’s a twinge of a heartache, a ghost of a pain
A sign that there’s something alive
Something alive
Alive

There’s a sign in the sunrise, A flicker of bright eyes
There’s a laugh in a cold night, The glimpse of a warm light
The chill of the cool rain, The sound of a new name
The glitter of fresh ice, There’s something alive
Something alive

One day I will climb, lose my way, stumble and fly
One day I will rise, spread my wings and take to the sky.
One day I will climb, lose my way, stumble and fly
One day I will rise, spread my wings and take to the sky.