Old Boots, Orange Blossom and Knives Video (MV)

There are those nights when the sounds are just right
And the clouds give way to angels in the sky
In our beds they hold us tightly
We bury ourselves in them, rejoice and cry

Boats arrive as boats are leaving
And the bedclothes are a tide
Everything pulled from its mooring
Toast the new friends dressed in fine words

We hold our arms to the heavens
Hoping to catch the things we desire
Thrown into the air, a bundle of confetti
Old boots, orange blossom and knives

On the table, a dying flower
The crumbs and wine stains of our last meal
Another year playing the hours
Another year of putting this on hold

Riding on the edge , cheap thrills at the sharp end
Speed kills when you're only killing time
Picking up pieces, the damage from a nail bomb
The planets lurch, and the angels smile

We hold our arms to the heavens
Hoping to catch the things we desire
Thrown into the air, a bundle of confetti
Old boots, orange blossom and knives