"HEAVEN"
Baby, you're all that I want
When you're lying here in my arms
I'm finding it hard to believe
We're in Heaven
Out of the blue, Lisa (see photo on upper left) asked if I'd like to join her for a cup of coffee. Being the student of Eddie Izzard (see photo on lower left) that I am, I knew what that meant. My hair was a mess, my clothes were wrinkled and my eyes were still somewhat dilated as a result of my appointment with Dr. Hutchinson (literally, the finest ophthalmoloigcal mind in this country, if not the world). My strategic side -- the same side that thinks love is a battlefield -- thought I should decline. Not only would I prevent her from seeing me when I looked like crap, but I would remain aloof and enigmatic. I could build a mystery.
"Sure! I'll see you as soon as I can," I said, mentally regretting my eagerness.
* * *
It was 3:17 a.m. when I finally came roaring into town off of the Mass Pike. I drove into Copley Square, and proceded onto Newbury Street to head home.
And love is all that I need
The radio was playing DJ Sammy & Yanou's latest big song, Heaven (written by Bryan Adams). Naturally, I turned up the volume of the Mach-5, to appreciate the thumping techno bass. Then I started to drive fast.
And I found it there in your heart
I was flying down Newbury Street, something that would be impossible almost any other time of day or night. The music playing in the background, I didn't care that I was supposed to wake up in 2.5 hours. All that mattered was now.
It isn't too hard to see
Boston is dead at 3 in the morning.
But I was very much alive.
We're in Heaven
