I took a pill in Ibiza / To show Avicii I was cool / And when I finally got sober, felt 10 years older / But fuck it, it was something to do

There are northern wheatears close to the stream, easy-to-spot males with their rust-tinged breasts and a smart black stripe through the eye.

Nay, lady, sit. If I but wave this wand, Your nerves are all chain’d up in alabaster, And you a statue, or, as Daphnë was, Root-bound, that fled Apollo.

That power I have, discharge; and let them go To ear the land that hath some hope to grow, For I have none.