Blues and greys and greens across the river
We went into winter London parks, my darling
Monuments for blood spilt in foreign lands
It's on our hands, it's all across our faces
Photographs in paper bags
And she is far
She's getting so much further every day
Well, youth was no excuse I will excuse you still
For every single dirty magazine, my darling
Monuments on Margate Sands staples across your hands
And all across your face
Photographs in paper bags
And she is far
There is imagery in this song that appears to reference T S Eliot’s  The Waste Land.  This line could refer to the shelter at Margate in which Eliot  wrote his draft of the poem: 
 On Margate Sands. I can connect Nothing with nothing. 
 The shelter has recently been designated a heritage site  — a monument of a sort. 
 Focusing on the idea of nothing coming to nothing, which also appears in lyrics of another song on this album, the specific phrase has also been used in the Babyshamble’s song  “Nothing Comes to Nothing.”
She Is Far