Your eyes won’t leave me,
hoping in every minute left,
tonight’s east river’s gorgeous,
but it’s not everything.
How could I mean to let you down?
The thought of you clings to every sound,
it calms me down.
Time’s been golden,
even second-hand.
I hope we leave it open,
my mind’s been heading back
over the Severn crossing,
like I’m some leading man.