these days when I wake up,
it has become very clear in which direction I am to turn.
It’s like a beautiful coincidence.
And yet we swore
that it didn’t make sense
Three hundred thirty six miles I drove;
Manchester’s Orchestra kept me on the road,
and I hoped if you looked me in the eyes
you’d not say no.
You’re the queen
in our kingdom’s cathedral.
I’m no king,
but I mean well.