|
There's a still in the night, a tuneless moonlight |
|
Just the I-need-you-and-here's-whys of snoring Gords and Cheryls |
|
There's a heron outside, in violet light |
|
There's an urge to go, a shadow, a heightened air of peril |
|
Your heart jumps to |
|
And my heart jumps too |
|
I think to myself "I don't really know my heart" |
|
As you whisper "me too" |
|
A silver jet roars overhead |
|
Rocks the nocturne all everglade and grey sheers |
|
A silver jet, so far off already |
|
Fought the hot spurs off all the way to Cape Spear |
|
It's quiet again, when a car like Big Ben |
|
The radio dopplering, for all you Gregory Peck fans |
|
Let Us Now Praise Famous Men |
|
To take some pressure off the wonderous to fight and |
|
Your heart jumps to |
|
And my heart jumps too |
|
As if the Wolves of Northhumberland themselves |
|
Were rumoured to be en route |
|
A silver jet, way overhead |
|
You're an archipelago, a satellite, a green star |
|
A silver jet, so far off already |
|
With your I-need-you-and-here's-why flying to the next part |
|
Your heart jumps to |
|
And my heart jumps too |
|
I'm thinking to myself "packing is a secret art" |
|
And as you whisper "me too" |
|
A silver jet roars overhead |
|
A silver jet, flying to the next part |
|
A silver jet, so far off already |
|
A silver jet, a satellite, a green star |
|
A silver jet, way overhead |
|
A silver jet, evergladed grey sheers |
|
A silver jet, so far off already |
|
A silver jet, Clayqout sound to Cape Spear |
