The foggy days in King's Cross aren't improving,
The alleyways make mountain lakes of you,
The woven vines you left behind are as soothing,
As the distances that you squint into,
I think you know me better, my brohter, than any other do.

The major motion pictures all have ended,
The king is dead but not the sorcerer,
I owe my minor setback to his credit,
He's good enough in health to go on tour,
I think I know him better, my brother, and any other.

And I'm not on a bus along the ocean,
I'm not on a plane above the sea,
I am in a boat who's bow is broken,
On the open water of Capri.

Now, it is now you must recover,
Now, it is now you must be free,
When every throat is calling out for water,
And every eye is following thee,
Be careful of each other, brother or enemy.

And I'm not on a bus along the ocean,
I'm not on a plane above the sea,
I am in a boat who's bow is broken,
On the open water of Capri.

Looking in wonder, my brother, ahead of me.