Chilson - Eleventh He Reaches London

Open that bottle, send the cork across the sky

Through irrelevant celebrations like a friend leaving us behind

To take our mind off the suffocating loss of dependence we relied on for 22

somber years

I’m done with this girl with her mouth open wide like the clowns we pumped

coins in to move side to side

Are you on the edge of your seat for me?

I’m done with this boy who thinks he’s all I have, but I’ll kiss him tonight in

case I’m still unsure

Because that’s true I guess… at least for tonight

And there is love!

There is beauty!

They exist but removed from the boy with no heart

That aside there is trust

There’s rapport and the oblation of being content

The road is long and I’m afraid

The moon is out on Saint Dwynwen

Day, night, on false ways home

Well it’s too late for regrets and I’m afraid of heights but I’ll ride that

ferris wheel if it means we’ll kiss

The brightest full moon above the darkest planet

A visual metaphor that screams to me

Get back on track and stop being a coward

Get back on track and stop being a failure

Get back on track and stop being that bookmark of the person you told yourself

to never become

I miss my family and I miss my home

I miss that kiss of my mother and her words «you'll be who you want»

I miss internally what everyone has

I miss that publican’s ghost, so proud of me, saying «just let go»