A magnet at my very core
Pulls me northwards further than before
But nights are shorter
Lying with the truth laid out like that
And your cold star gazing from the flat roof
The nerves, the cat
He's happier in the grip of a daft half hour
Than in his basket half-life indoors, afraid
And yes, I'm aware, it's me that I describe in code
On every diary page, I act, I'm damned already
After the facts unearth the cracks, I buried with pine cones
Rowan berries grown out love but look up now
And the Northern Lights excuse our flight for falls and ice
I take the mouse out with me
He'd like that
Neither of us ever all that keen
To have you fuss, to have you bother us
Neither of us consider it a fact
