When the sun sets behind the starboard wing,
The satnav announces clear to home,
There's one piece left in the biggest yet
Or your fingernails preempt a perfect moan

We're almost there
Wherever it might be
Imaginary palace
We'll never get to see

When the tide begins to retreat again,
The windows clear and the crew sit down,
There's a platter of treats on the hotel desk
Or a smile overtakes the typical frown

We're making it
Whatever it might be
Imaginary treasure
We'll never get to see

When the buzzards rise from the ancient wood,
The bore acceleratres through the bend,
There's snow still crisp on the garage roof
Or your eyes sparkle fire for what you intend

We're climbing up
To a misty peak
Imaginary pinnacle
We'll never get to see