The stars are out
and you know the way
- Piccadilly, Rusholme,
Withington, Wythenshawe.
These are names that could
freeze your soul in blue
and maybe light a candle
in the dark if you could
only find a spark.
Every building is an open door,
every street an absent flower
that unkown gods collected
long ago when it was raining.
This is England - a promise.
I tell myself - there is a plan.
Just follow through,
be yourself, smile under
this weird constellation and
expect the unexpected,
what you want will happen,
it's just probability
and probability is
always on your side
when you are in Manchester.