My First Born For A Song

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 classic 
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