Anya

Since you've been away, we don't know what to do, but each night pray, to break the anvil stone, say it’s ready for you, everyone hates you gone, to sleep this time of day, hear you sing the blues, we’ve nothing more to say, said you had to go, to stamp out the fool, head a bag of marbles, our lives have turned grey, Gin won’t be your ruin, nor your smoking phase, confined within your roam, you've little need of truth, but we want you home, beat our wings in praise, see the creep of moon, new horizons are great, let them have their due.