Busted out to the halfway house
At the top of Undercliffe Road
You and me and your motorbike
In the ice and drifting snow
3 a.m. and empty, the city ours alone
And laughing through the trails of frozen breathing
I swore to you that I could fly
If you only let me go
Holding on as we leant over
the edge of Baildon Moor
And far beneath the shadowed lands
The rocks and shapeless dark
And all that space for us to fall in
And all I could feel was myself falling