I had a dream
Where you were both
Queen and crisis
And yellow birds sand
And told me
That you would be gone from me
And I found my fear
And fear became
Something of an island
To dwell upon
In the breaking day
And I would have run
I would have stolen your car
And driven it round and round
And I would have gone
And gilded your name to my door
To mark out where you belong
And I’d make you come
Come to your senses
And I’d be
I’d be the one to warm you in winter
Well I had a drum
And I hit it with
Beauty and abandon
And I travelled your land
To settle my score with the masses
And you were my queen
And to me you were the herald
Of a gilded age
To dwell in
Upon the breaking day
One for the mirror and one for the mind
Our reflections are never the same
In the morning or in the corner of your eye
And your reflections will never be mine