Letra de Right Down To The Heart Of London
The little crumb trail I am leaving most assuredly will fade
The notes to you that I dispatch will rot away
There's one floating down the river
The notes to you that I dispatch will rot away
There's one floating down the river
Past The Globe and The Tate
For a mudlark to find along the bank one day
A wad of parchment wrapped and bound
As a token, I leave them around
The ink running wild now with the rain
Not a wish or a spell but just a small appreciation
Dropped right down to the heart of London
Down to the heart of London
In the blazing afternoon
The studio at Leighton House
Awash with gold and bathed in magic light
I spot a small red volume on the mantel, where I leave one
Between the pages of Dickens' Hard Times
In the Gosling Boneyard on The Red Cross Way
A row of shells line a solemn little grave
And a hole in the ground where with a satisfying weight
I drop one down to the heart of London
Down to the heart of London
With courtly admiration and sworn appreciation, here,
Right down to the heart of London
Not a wish or a prayer but a ritual has brought me, where?
Right down to the heart of London
Down to the heart of London
Down an alleyway in Peckham as the ladies file along
I hear music and a door is swinging open
And reverent little girls clad in robes of gleaming white
Beckon me inside to come and join them
And I'm kicking off my shoes and covering my head
I need a taste of the raven Holy Ghost
To lay me out and knock me down
To purge and cleanse me to the ground
Right down to the heart of London
Down to the heart of London
With courtly admiration and sworn appreciation, here,
Right down to the heart of London
Not a wish or a prayer but a ritual has brought me, where?
Right down to the heart of London
Down to the heart of London
From The Irish Sea at Bannow, Wexford
I would swim right to The Channel
'Til I reach your native shore
To wash up with the tide
And all the notes that I've been writing
Sink away and I won't need them anymore
And the lights on the bridge, William Blake and the grid
And the whisper room that winds around Saint Paul's
Sir John Soane found me in his parlor all alone
Weeping at the beauty of it all
Down down down right down
Down down down down...
With courtly admiration and sworn appreciation, here,
Right down to the heart of London
Not a wish or a prayer but a ritual has brought me, where?
Right down to the heart of London
Down to the heart of London
For a mudlark to find along the bank one day
A wad of parchment wrapped and bound
As a token, I leave them around
The ink running wild now with the rain
Not a wish or a spell but just a small appreciation
Dropped right down to the heart of London
Down to the heart of London
In the blazing afternoon
The studio at Leighton House
Awash with gold and bathed in magic light
I spot a small red volume on the mantel, where I leave one
Between the pages of Dickens' Hard Times
In the Gosling Boneyard on The Red Cross Way
A row of shells line a solemn little grave
And a hole in the ground where with a satisfying weight
I drop one down to the heart of London
Down to the heart of London
With courtly admiration and sworn appreciation, here,
Right down to the heart of London
Not a wish or a prayer but a ritual has brought me, where?
Right down to the heart of London
Down to the heart of London
Down an alleyway in Peckham as the ladies file along
I hear music and a door is swinging open
And reverent little girls clad in robes of gleaming white
Beckon me inside to come and join them
And I'm kicking off my shoes and covering my head
I need a taste of the raven Holy Ghost
To lay me out and knock me down
To purge and cleanse me to the ground
Right down to the heart of London
Down to the heart of London
With courtly admiration and sworn appreciation, here,
Right down to the heart of London
Not a wish or a prayer but a ritual has brought me, where?
Right down to the heart of London
Down to the heart of London
From The Irish Sea at Bannow, Wexford
I would swim right to The Channel
'Til I reach your native shore
To wash up with the tide
And all the notes that I've been writing
Sink away and I won't need them anymore
And the lights on the bridge, William Blake and the grid
And the whisper room that winds around Saint Paul's
Sir John Soane found me in his parlor all alone
Weeping at the beauty of it all
Down down down right down
Down down down down...
With courtly admiration and sworn appreciation, here,
Right down to the heart of London
Not a wish or a prayer but a ritual has brought me, where?
Right down to the heart of London
Down to the heart of London
