'I was dreaming about you, but I was dreaming about a time when it must of been good. We are sitting on a train slashing through the country. Green trees barley being glimpsed before being whipped away and out of sight. I can see you sitting there reclining lazily against the wooden panelling of carriage seat; you don’t know I’m watching you, you’re smoking a cigarette and the smoke encircles your head like a wreath, unable to leave the carriage, tightening around us'