// Website of UK singer songwriter Beck Goldsmith //

The Watchers


Don’t make a sound

The Watchers are waiting

The merry-go-round horse is escaping


The shadows are hidden

But given a key you can see them

Don’t set foot outside

The highwayman hangs round the roadside


Don’t look behind

The Watchers are nearing

The trees are alive

The path’s disappearing


Your heart’s in a box now

So spin golden string from the straw house

The wolf’s in the clearing

Three breaths and four walls are falling in


Master my dreams through the window

Gather my teeth from under the pillow

It’s all in your head though

It’s all in your head