D’you think I’ve got a place to chill? A place to smile at scumbags? “Each and every one of us Has two halves to their being: One dark, the other light…” Fuck off to that crap!
Your men are like the Moon. They come at night And leave before the dawn. In places where porters are sobbing And chimneysweeps dream of ash: That’s your drunken string.
Drink down to the bottom While I’m not alone Howl, musician, howl! Bawl, country, bawl! Your heart is moved by passion And I’m your drunken string!