Jeffrey Foucault Follow

I tumbled out of Gateshead
It was a lazy afternoon
I put the pedal down for southbound
Beneath an early rising moon

And I ended up in Durham
Standing underneath the rain
Sometimes the whole world is a city
Where no one knows your name

There was a gypsy selling papers
She sounded like a mourning dove
Calling soft and sad and quiet
One part grief and one part love

One part love

It was a late night in Newcastle
And I made myself a friend
We traded cab fare from the hotel
Across the Tyne and back again

And we stood each other beers
Out of the money from the show
And we talked about the job
And indie bands and bars back home

And with the hotel windows open
I slept and woke and slept again
And I dreamed they burned a city
With a suitcase and a grin

And I stood in Durham City
Beneath the castle and the keep
And heard a gypsy woman selling
Like one part love and one part grief

And my dream came to me waking
On the cobbles in the rain
Maybe nothing is forever
Nothing is in vain

One part love