There was a whole summer I couldn't even cry and
being angry was the only thing kept me alive and
I watched Broadchurch every single night and
Ellie Miller was angry, too; I thought, 'Alright, then.'
I watched interviews, acceptance speeches, got advice from
this queen who totally seemed to know my mind
and named a vibrator after her hoping I'd catch her vibes
(That's a joke, but not a lie.)

There's no way to thank a stranger
who doesn't even know your name
for making life seem okay,
but for the record, I'll say:

I would lay down in the road and die for Olivia Colman, yes I would;
I would lay down in the road and die for Olivia Colman—she's that good
Well, there's a lot of hate, lot of pain in this world, but there are heroes all the way;
I would lay down in the road and die so Olivia Colman could live another day.

I feel small quite often in my life and
it’s not only cos I’m less than five-foot-five
and in the moments I feel maybe it’s my fault I
sing a song by a real-life Jesus Christ

Through the years his words roll like thunder
'til a song reminds me of a lover
and he sends heart-eye emojis to my cover
and then leaves my five-paragraph essay on why I love him and am gonna shit a brick on read...

But there’s no chill, no cool, just love
for making life a bit less tough
in the times I don’t feel enough,
so suffice it to say:

I would step on a grenade and die for Tim Minchin, that's a fact
I would step on a grenade and die for Tim Minchin, and that's just that
See, there's a lot of hate, lot of pain in this world but there are heroes all the same;
I would step on a grenade and die for Tim Minchin any old day.

And if you know if you know me, you know there's one man changed my life—
the Harold Pinter Theatre, a July night:

The scene is Hamlet it is four hours long and
this guy sees life like a song like I do,
in beats and space and pauses,
and he takes time to get it perfect.

Grad school recalls, cry about his Hamlet—I get in!
I find my voice is something special, needed, it’s the win
I’ve waited for my entire fucking life and I wish
I could tell him.

Well, I find I’m not poetic
when it’s this big of a “thanks,"
I just get anxious and weird
but I mean it when I say:

I would throw myself on a sword dipped in arsenic if Andrew Scott asked me to;
I mean, on second thought, if it was really Andrew Scott, there's truly nothing I wouldn't do—
See, there's a lot of hate, lot of pain in this world, and even heroes need some grace,
so while I would die to give my life for Andrew Scott, I think I'll just give him some space.