My First Born for a Song

Somewhere in this sea of Club Milks Tea and ashtray, 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 Has me tied up at a rate of knots No navigation, global positioning 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 My first born for a song My first born for a song 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*sic 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 My first born for a song My first born for a song My first born for a song Take me to your king I hear he's the man to see And I will cross his palm I will cross his palm I will cross his palm My first born for a song My first born for a song My first born for a song My first born for a song