My fingers are always crossed right up until I’m on the air with you.
The happy chance that it works for us every time can only be a run of luck. The flukiness of it all plunges my mind.
But can’t go on for this many years and merely be a casual chance that’s it all goes so well every time.
So when we finally get on the air together, remind me to uncross my fingers so I can take care of the controls and trust that we’re right where we oughta be.
At least until the show is over. And all we have is the archive.