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I Trawl the Megahertz
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Prefab Sprout
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I'm telling myself the story of my life Stranger than song or fiction We start with the joyful mysteries Before the appearance of ether Trying to capture the elusive The farm where the crippled horses heal The woods where autumn is reversed And the longing for bliss in the arms Of some beloved from the past I said 'Your daddy loves you.' I said 'Your daddy loves you very much... He just doesn't want to live with us anymore.' The plane comes down behind enemy lines And you don't speak the language A girl takes pity on you She is Mother Theresa walking among the poor And her eyes have attained night vision In an orchard, drenched in blue light She changes your bandages and soothes you All day her voice is balm Then she lowers you into the sunset Hers is the wing span of the quotidian angel So her feet are sore from the walk To the well of human kindness But she gives you a name, and you grow into it Whether a tramp of the low road or a prince Riding through Wagnerian opera You learn some, if not all, of the language And these are the footsteps you follow The tracks of impossible love
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