A magnet at my very core Pulls me northwards further than before But nights are shorter Lying with the truth laid out like that And your cold star gazing from the flat roof The nerves, the cat He's happier in the grip of a daft half hour Than in his basket half-life indoors, afraid And yes, I'm aware, it's me that I describe in code On every diary page, I act, I'm damned already After the facts unearth the cracks, I buried with pine cones Rowan berries grown out love but look up now And the Northern Lights excuse our flight for falls and ice I take the mouse out with me He'd like that Neither of us ever all that keen To have you fuss, to have you bother us Neither of us consider it a fact