| The leg bone is connected to the
|
| Foot bone is connected to the
|
| Export processing zones
|
| And it’s nothing we condone
|
| But everybody owns
|
| A pair of those shoes
|
| The bloodstream gets its sugar from the
|
| Intestine gets its sugar from the
|
| Supermarket chain
|
| That left the village drained
|
| Every high street, same soulless refrain
|
| I looked a little closer at
|
| The walls of my house
|
| And to my surprise
|
| They were made out of glass
|
| So I made my way softly
|
| Towards my front door
|
| But to my surprise
|
| It was bolted shut and barred
|
| The newspaper reads like
|
| A list of charges brought against me
|
| So I’m changing my plea to
|
| An open address to the jury
|
| I confess that I was there
|
| On that grassy knoll
|
| And I confess I helped fake
|
| The moon landings as well
|
| But I confess I’ve yet to
|
| Let slip my lowest low
|
| There’ve been times when
|
| I’ve pretended I didn’t know
|
| About my skeleton
|
| Your honor, I swear that I can explain
|
| There are mitigating factors to consider
|
| In this case, I was looking out
|
| Of a window to the west
|
| Francis Fukyama took me by the arm
|
| Won me over with his famous
|
| Intellectual charm
|
| Swore this beauty wouldn’t do any harm
|
| We didn’t look east
|
| Because the sun was setting
|
| It’s easy to lose yourself
|
| In the faintest reflection in the
|
| Pane of a window
|
| I suspect that I’ve lost myself
|
| In the guilty reflection of
|
| The pain that it lets through
|
| I must confess I’ve started
|
| Throwing stones
|
| Around the house
|
| I don’t mean to moan
|
| But I never even
|
| Signed the lease |