The Tuning Of Violins

Daylight breaks, and the black birds call
And the market stalls are all filling up, spilling over the streets
High above, over Notting Hill
I am floating still, in a wooden chair, with our restless dog.

Been away so long, I almost forgot how time and space
Cannot replace this feeling of flying over things
Now you're falling awake, your sleepy face begins to register
That I'm coming home- yeah, I'm coming home to you.

[Chorus:]
On a Sunday only we know, where the sunlight and the wind blows
Over bluebells, over Blackheath
Calling your name, I will float through your window.

Major third, or a minor seventh
I'm a violin tuned a little sharp, tuned a little below.

Coming around the bend, the hallway ends
The chair it dips, and then it bends
And it has wings for legs
Now you're deep in a dream, the sheets and pillowcases seem to overtake your head
I'm at the foot of our bed.

[Chorus x2]

Break through the silence, the gulf that's between us
Take all the heartache and bullshit that builds up
And we will unravel, unravel the moments
Yeah we will unravel, unravel the moments.

Oh...

On a Sunday only we know, where the sunlight and the wind blows
Over bluebells, over Blackheath
Calling your name, I will come to your window.

On a Sunday only we know, where the sunlight and the wind blows
On a Sunday only we know
I'll be calling your name as I float through your window.