Porcupine Tree

I'm sitting in the concrete,
I'm listening for a heartbeat,
I'm sitting in the painting,
I promised I'd be waiting,
I'm sitting in the window,
I'm listening to the wind blow,
I'm sitting in an hour glass,
I'm waiting for the march past.
I'm sitting in the doorway,
I'm wishing for a new day,
I'm choking in the landscape,
I'm cutting through the red tape,
I'm sitting in the concrete,
I'm listening for a heartbeat.
And the joke has crossed the line
And the final word is mine
And the mist has touched the wood
And the words are understood
And the sand has drifted high