(McNabb)
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Vagrant suspicious and quite out of breath
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Stumbles into a town where the people wear frowns,
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Picks up a paper, the pages are blank,
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They say "No news today, no more writers around",
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What price hope over adversity,
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Cause to applaud this perversity,
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I'm still deaf from the hydroplanes,
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Blessed with a cynical gaze...
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No words in our own defence,
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Independence our recompense,
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Fate casting a finer line,
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To pity or to pay.
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These rapids we're rolling on,
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Seem calm when they're good and gone,
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Love, as good as the house it warms,
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A million miles between us,
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Still we're heading the same way...
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I sing this song with my tongue in my cheek,
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For the jilted, the jaundiced, the angry young men,
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Who somehoe believe that the status quo changes
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With juvenile slogans in downmarket rags.
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What price hope over adversity,
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Cause to applaud this perversity,
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I'm still deaf from the hydroplanes,
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Blessed with a cynical gaze...
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-----------------
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Rapids
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| The Icicle Works |
