| I had a dream
|
| Where you were both
|
| Queen and crisis
|
| And yellow birds sang
|
| And warned 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
|
| So I would have run
|
| And 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
|
| And I would have run
|
| And 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
|
| 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
|
| So I would have run
|
| And 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 the one to warm you in winter
|
| And I’d make you come
|
| Come to your senses
|
| And I’d be
|
| I’d be the one to warm you in winter
|
| I’d be the one to warm you in winter |