I imagined a book in my head Filled with characters I barely knew And all the things that they said The words on the pages spoke true

I played with genres, locations and timelines I gave them plots, all twisted in knots But resolution was not to be found Should I set the story underground

In a bunker after the last bomb had dropped? Or in a skyscraper, right up at the top Why would you read it, why would you care Should the hero be wealthy, or is that just a little unfair

It’s a lot of work, to write in your head Keeping track of things, coming up with lines It keeps me sane though, so that’s what I do Stranded on an island, longing for you

(c) words and music G Todd 2025