Cycling canal from Leeds to London June 2025.
Day one from Leeds to Hyde (Manchester)
And father time has not been good to me. My ray of light says always give a damn. I’m awkward and I’m ugly. Give me help. I’m helping to make myself feel so real. So hold me till my face. It feels like another. And wish me to my life. It feels like another and father time has not been good to me. My life is just a series of wrecks. I’m hoping that you wish me best of luck. Your luck is what I needed years ago. So hold me to my face. It feels like another. And whis me to my life. It feels like another reach in any way. I fear you in every chin anyway. I fear you. Hear you. Where faces seem so loud when you’re ahead of the crowd. Where faces seem so loud when you’re ahead of the crowd. Where faces seem so loud when you’re ahead of the crowd. My faces seem so loud when you’re ahead of the crowd. You sing about it for a They never meant to sell a lie, but they found a way to steal your world forever. She crawled around our living room, searching for a mother’s womb. And she pulled away from your warm embrace that hit you loose. Feeling tight like you lose your soul. sleep. She wasn’t born to think that way. You called her name, she looked away, but always seemed to need a second. She’s the one, the one who needs a new thing to hold. The one who shook the screws loose for you. The one who like to fall through the eyes. The one who doesn’t hold you. This love we feel is just a fantasy. This road we travel is just a dead end and street. Dead and street. The one who needs a news to hold. The one who shook the screws loose for you. The one who like to fall through the eyes. The one who doesn’t hold you. The one who needs a new thing to hold. The one who shook the screws loose for you. The one who like to fall through the ice. The one who doesn’t hold you now. Yeah. Hey, hey, hey. Heat. Heat. Heat. Heat. Out of town. Down that whiping tongue, ceaseless in it song that grinds long after time allows birding soul pale green. The thickness of its skin devours and burning quickly. Put the fire around. That sad machine was just wheels and cars that And there in knowing the love they have arrogantly grown to hide what they don’t know from you and burning quickly. Put the fire out. That sad machine’s just wheels and cogs and bells that tick to grind their song into the ground. That ugly rusted broken Mary go around. Three hours Sailing the cracks long as the Put you to bed.