N.C.
He cut your strings so that
A
he could float - lit by lights, lifted by
E
alcohol
over acres of
Bm
loving coast, far away from your
D
lonely ghost.
E
Now he’s
A
cool and all, floating anchorless.
E
Ports of call:
where it’s fabulous,
Bm
after all of this watching him
D
self just crawl.
E
Was he
A
small and cold, like a ring you call
E
up from home,
held so tightly his
Bm
limbs went numb, worn away between your
D
finger and
E
thumb?
Well, now he’s
A
bought and sold. Cry his call number
E
down the phone,
he can’t hear you - he’s
Bm
on his float, waving down to the
D
folks at
E
home.
As his
A
close-up comes cascading down from
E
bove,
the eyes of a nation in
Bm
love are looking on all of their
D
hopes held
E
up.
And the
A
words that some screenwriter counted and
E
chose,
and then set in their sequence and
Bm
froze,
unfreeze on his tongue as he
D
speaks for all
E
of us
Discussion