Somewhere in this sea of Club Milks Tea and ashtrays There is a song I'm in the crow's nest with binoculars Just waiting for one to come along I've seen the flare so I know it's there It has me tied up at a rate of knots No navigation, global position Just me and this midnight oil So take me to your king I hear he's the man to see And I will cross his palm My first born for a song Somewhere in this froth And howling wind There's something worth singing Climb into the attic to write me a cla**ic But it's not happening It's just Christmas up here Between the phone calls And text messages The air must be thick with words But not between us Shoulder to grindstone Switching to manual Keep the head down And I'll see you at the end So take me to your king I hear he's the man to see And I will cross his palm My first born for a song