(this is a journey song and was written mostly on the outer wall of a graveyard in Mile End)
You gotta wait around for her to come,
But when she comes, o you better be ready.
Cos she wont stay long zand when shes gone,
She’ll leave you bare, drunk, on your own and unsteady.
And you better pray that you wrote her down,
Or next time she comes, you better make sure you’re around.
Oh im not sure that I can write these words on the run,
A fallen sign and a punctured zeppelin tell me that its just begun.
Words are wrapped around the cactus trees,
And I can see your god floating on the breeze.
Oh I write ‘p’s like my brother I write ‘z’s like my dad,
Her jet-black hairs a killer, and it the best I’ve ever had.
You wont believe the things we’ll see or what we’ll have to teach.
You wont believe the things we’ll do or what we’ll have to preach.
Hold on my friend, we’re now approaching the belly of the beast.
The sand is red and my bottles empty, I’m crying from the inside.
This 4-leaved clovers helping, but it came too late to stop this crime.
So now im walking homeward on a dangerous dim-lit street,
Dreaming of the time that I had speed at my feet.
My hair smells of coal, I can see my goal…..
Way up in the distance by the hanger for my soul.
That where I’ll hang it up when we jump inside,
Next to all of our belongings and the folks that we made cry.
As I fall down the slide I’ll grab you by the scruff of the neck and take you with me,
Cos youre the safest bet.
You can come along and keep our feet on the ground,
Tell me to be quiet when my ego makes a sound.
Wrap me in your arms, the quietest kid gloves,
In return I’ll treat you gently,
With a special blend of anger and love.
You wont believe the things we’ll see or what we’ll have to teach.
You wont believe the things we’ll do or what we’ll have to preach.
Hold on my friend, we’re now approaching the belly of the beast.
It’s so dangerous to ask her for your oblivion to come faster,
Cos’ I’ve already reached it, and I’m finding it card to care.
Lets leave behind our homes and disappear into thin-air,
Cos there remains nothing here for us, here, there and everywhere.
We’re now approaching the belly of the beast,
We’ve seen the North, betrayed the South and lived in the East.
We’ll catch their smiles and linger on well after they have died.
We’ll leave behind the memories of the ones that we made cry.
Timings bad and things were said that never should’ve been,
And we’ll return as different men, weighed down by the things we’ve seen.
We’ll tell them stories of the murder of our innocence and purity,
They’ll say we never had it in the first place, we can see,
That you’re the perfect travellers of mind and of psyche….
So bring us back a souvenir from the land of insanity.
Cos we don’t wanna go, we just wanna know,
How it feels to get dirty and to lose all self-control.
So write it on a postcard from the depths of depravity
And I’ll show it to my friends when they get bored of me.
You wont believe the things we’ll see or what we’ll have to teach.
You wont believe the things we’ll do or what we’ll have to preach.
Hold on my friend, we’re now approaching the belly of the beast.
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