You haven't found it yet,
|
Haven't found it yet.
|
|
|
|
Look at the glass, turn your head
|
You haven't found it yet.
|
Moving down the lane inside
|
It's flashy Camden Town
|
It's that London lyric again
|
You haven't found it yet.
|
|
|
|
Impulses crowd your head
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Too much to be absorbed
|
You're into the top shackle
|
Mental saw-down of your head.*
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Which bemoans a simple fact.
|
You haven't found it yet.
|
|
|
|
It seemed so clear in bed
|
It's dark but your legs, they are dead
|
Your pen is encombed in mattress
|
You're not going to get it yet
|
You haven't found it yet
|
|
|
|
You're dying but still warm
|
Put this writing on your tomb
|
Spit out with dying breath
|
You haven't found it yet.
|
|
|
|
I dictate
|
Transcribe
|
Relations
|
Dear Cousin
|
It's destiny.
|
|
The grist that curtails the mill
|
shall make us strong
|
|
-----------------
|
YOU HAVEN'T FOUND IT YET
|
| The Fall |
