Garden Chairs

In the lean-to called a loggia
Sleeping rough in garden chairs
By the light of the corporation
Cigarettes to warm the air

Laying back in the garden chairs
Looking up at glass and stars
Blanket flattened out our flares
It was a game could not be lost

We - were the kings of ourselves
Waiting for this

Lying back in the garden chairs
Thinking of the realms of gold
So calm and sure and certain
Waiting for our lives to unfold

We - were the kings of ourselves
Waiting for this

And this was all it was