| Lord unchain my hands
|
| Let me sing inside the crowded trams
|
| Let me dance among the traffic jams
|
| We’re going to sleep
|
| On the St Kilda sands
|
| Lord unbind my feet
|
| Let me mingle with the good people
|
| We meet
|
| Water rising up into the street
|
| Unbind my feet
|
| 'The apparition of these faces in The crowd;
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| Petals on a wet black bough"
|
| Ezra Pound found the formula
|
| Our houses are rectangular
|
| But life is curved not angular
|
| So when things start to strangular
|
| Remember
|
| Rain still falls on the halls of power
|
| New babies being born every hour
|
| And the eagle keeps watch on the old clock tower
|
| Over me…
|
| On the train I refrain from sitting with head and shoulders bowed
|
| They told me time is of the essence
|
| No wandering allowed
|
| But then I saw a pretty girl
|
| Whose features stood out in the crowd
|
| Went ten minutes past my stop waiting for her to look around
|
| I’m just another clown kicking around in Melbourne town
|
| Cooling out, relaxing watching the
|
| World go round
|
| So if you ever have the time
|
| And you want to go drink some wine
|
| I’d rather greet you with a smile
|
| Than greet you with a frown…
|
| Lord unchain my hands
|
| Let me sing inside the crowded trams
|
| Let me dance among the traffic jams
|
| We’re going to sleep
|
| On the St Kilda sands
|
| Lord unbind my feet
|
| Let me mingle with the good people
|
| We meet
|
| Water rising up into the street
|
| Unbind my feet |