So the certanty is I can get no air,
|
Getting nowhere at all,
|
Open-ended and suspended one by one,
|
In the slipstream,
|
And Harvest hold the horrbag,
|
Emotion starts to lag,
|
With panache I keep a-crashing,
|
Through the sky,
|
No compassion have I.
|
|
Kick a kiss of superstition and I cry,
|
"Just a guide or I throw
|
All the panic I can muster,
|
Threatening to the cluster";
|
The hangman's whore so obvious,
|
Discretion's such a drag,
|
But I know his apparatus snows my mind,
|
When it gets too far out.
|
Guard the ribs and fall,
|
I long to catch my breath, condemm it all
|
As the number I become,
|
They count me out a volunteer.
|
|
See how they run in silence up the belfry steps,
|
Each unaffected by the sight of the blistered skin;
|
Someone to calm me till the pounding in my head stops,
|
Over the tens of thousands find no way out of in:
|
Through the pandemonium, My heart is beating like a drum,
|
Barricaded in here, crawling's getting creepier,
|
With my head in my hands, all the heaven in my heart.
|
|
Get me out of here, let me get away,
|
Let me go from here, get me out away,
|
Get me out of here, let me get away,
|
Let me out of here, let me go today....
|
|
-----------------
|
Awake And Nervous (Radio Session)
|
| IQ |
