It's a lethal ballet
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Air traffic congestion
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I'm having a baby
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Second thoughts, scotch, dinner
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And someone's dancing on the box
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A former MP
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And no one was watching
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My oldest friends are a serious habit
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Fly boy blue, so bring your faces home,
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To my sweet trampoline
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And acres of crash site love
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Someone's dancing on the box
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A former MP
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And no one was watching
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My oldest friends are a serious habit
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Fly boy blue, so bring your faces home
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To my sweet trampoline
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And acres of crash site love
|
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Presidential delays
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Suppose I'm just lucky
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I'm having a shindig
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Me, Red Bob and the ivory host
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And someone's shouting on the box
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A chinless prefect gone Godzilla
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My newest friends have forgotten my name
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But so have I, so far so good and home
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You and me trampoline and oceans of crash site love
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What can be said of the cigarette smokes
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A prop for a joke or a mark on the clock
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If I stopped would the bus ever come
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Would the dawn ever kiss me, forgiven me, knowing what's done
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Would the drivel make scribble make sense and then song
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Would the woodbines denied black another man's lungs
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Perverse as it may sound I sometimes believe
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The tip to my lips just reminds me to breathe
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What can be said of the whiskey and wine
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Random abandon or ballast for joy
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That was scuppered with trust, little more than a boy
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And besides I'm in excellent company
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I'm reaching the age when decisions are made
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On life and liver and I'm sure last ditch
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That'll I'll ask for more time
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But mother forgive me
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I still want a bottle of good Irish whiskey and a bundle of smokes in my grave
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But there isn't words yet for the comfort I get
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From the gentle lunette at the top of the nape of the neck that I wake to
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And where are the words for the leap in my chest
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When mischief appears either side of the scar on your nose
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Made by a rose thorn, so you claim
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By a rose thorn
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Fly Boy Blue / Lunette
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| Elbow |
