| Join the legion of the damned
|
| heart in a bucket in the lost and found
|
| a label tied to the side of the bucket
|
| please look after this bear.
|
| Kings Corss, Euston, Paddington,
|
| back to Marylebone,
|
| and down to Tyburn.
|
| taking it all down around you
|
| a hearty liquid breakfast inside you.
|
| Can you, point your finger
|
| judge it all on your own terms
|
| and let the whole world go to hell?
|
| Whether sister or brother
|
| it won’t work without each other.
|
| Can you turn your eyes,
|
| turn your head,
|
| turn your heart off,
|
| turn and walk away?
|
| Standing on a wobbly soapbox.
|
| A hypocrite I should be in the stocks.
|
| But if you’re so pure and innocent
|
| I’ll supply the rotten eggs.
|
| Reasons, grievances, what ifs,
|
| are you happiest pissing on your chips?
|
| With your voodoo dolls, thousand yard stare,
|
| and a death wish that’ll get you there.
|
| Can you, point your finger
|
| judge it all on your own terms
|
| and let the whole world go to hell?
|
| Whether sister or brother
|
| it won’t work without each other.
|
| Can you turn your eyes,
|
| turn your head,
|
| turn your heart off,
|
| turn your heart off,
|
| turn and walk away? |