Right Down To The Heart Of London

(albüm: La Vita Nuova - 2020)

The little crumb trail I am leaving
Most assuredly will fade
The notes to you that I dispatch will rot away
There's one floating down the river
Past The Globe and The Tate
For a mudlark to find along the bank one day

A wad of parchment wrapped and bound
As a token, I leave them around
The ink running wild now with the rain
Not a wish or a spell
But just a small appreciation
Dropped right down to the heart of London
Down to the heart of London

In the blazing afternoon
The studio at Leighton House
Awash with gold and bathed in magic light
I spot a small red volume
On the mantel, where I leave one
Between the pages of Dickens' Hard Times

In the Gosling Boneyard
On The Red Cross Way
A row of shells line a solemn little grave
And a hole in the ground
Where with a satisfying weight
I drop one down to the heart of London
Down to the heart of London

With courtly admiration
And sworn appreciation, here
Right down to the heart of London
Not a wish or a prayer
But a ritual has brought me, where?
Right down to the heart of London
Down to the heart of London

Down an alleyway in Peckham
As the ladies file along
I hear music and a door is swinging open
And reverent little girls
Clad in robes of gleaming white
Beckon me inside to come and join them

And I'm kicking off my shoes
And covering my head
I need a taste of the raven Holy Ghost
To lay me out and knock me down
To purge and cleanse me to the ground
Right down to the heart of London
Down to the heart of London

With courtly admiration
And sworn appreciation, here
Right down to the heart of London
Not a wish or a prayer
But a ritual has brought me, where?
Right down to the heart of London
Down to the heart of London

From The Irish Sea at Bannow, Wexford
I would swim right to The Channel
'Til I reach your native shore
To wash up with the tide
And all the notes that I've been writing
Sink away and I won't need them anymore

And the lights on the bridge
William Blake and the grid
And the whisper room that winds around Saint Paul's
Sir John Soane
Found me in his parlor all alone
Weeping at the beauty of it all
Down down down right down
Down down down down...

With courtly admiration
And sworn appreciation, here
Right down to the heart of London
Not a wish or a prayer
But a ritual has brought me, where?
Right down to the heart of London
Down to the heart of London