I Trawl the Megahertz Prefab Sprout

I'm telling myself the story of my life
Stranger than song or fiction
We start with the joyful mysteries
Before the appearance of ether
Trying to capture the elusive
The farm where the crippled horses heal
The woods where autumn is reversed
And the longing for bliss in the arms
Of some beloved from the past
I said 'Your daddy loves you.'
I said 'Your daddy loves you very much...
He just doesn't want to live with us anymore.'

The plane comes down behind enemy lines
And you don't speak the language
A girl takes pity on you
She is Mother Theresa walking among the poor
And her eyes have attained night vision
In an orchard, drenched in blue light
She changes your bandages and soothes you
All day her voice is balm
Then she lowers you into the sunset
Hers is the wing span of the quotidian angel
So her feet are sore from the walk
To the well of human kindness
But she gives you a name, and you grow into it
Whether a tramp of the low road or a prince
Riding through Wagnerian opera
You learn some, if not all, of the language
And these are the footsteps you follow
The tracks of impossible love