Found me,
now finding you,
standing in a holy queue,
To operate the computer, which will lead me to you.
A song for you,
when I'm not there,
When I'm lost with my lonely-club crew.
All I want is a feather,
(Or many feathers?)
Just to take off without a clue.

How many more words to heal the star within the rib-cage,
Find you now,
or I'll be off to be a drunken sage.