The White Horse

It’s like I’ve turned on a light

In a full movie theatre.

Faces I don’t recognise,

Convinced I’m a puppeteer.

I interrupted the play

In the middle of the second act.

I’ve lit up a whole town

With a lightbulb that’s smashed.

I’m burning bridges

Having heart attacks.

I’m starting bonfires

With nothing but a match.

This place is a canvas,

I’m painting it happy.

I hope these characters,

They’ll all remember me.

Not for impressions,

Not for a story.

Not for a rumour,

Not for a memory.

I hope they see love,

I hope I’m talked about.

I hope they see who I am

When all my cards are out.

Because I’ll keep on driving

Down the motorway.

To that famous little town

With the white horse on display.