She whispered in your ear,
Of such fantastical things,
Keeping all her promises,
The nightingale who sings.

In chorus with imagination,
And the rhythms of your heart –
Singing is a delicate skill –
But voice her choice of art.

Pinball wizards, descending clouds,
Her joyful alchemy,
And all the lovers listening,
To these lost symphonies –

Now you are her prisoner –
Your song still flying free,
Promises that Angels make,
And fulfilment of a dream.