There will be no further comment No defiant fist will lift These capitulating eyes will lower Feet will shift and To the lone thoughtful orator We will give the shortest shrift And let the soundbites eat the heart out Of these lives that are a gift
We will settle, we will settle For the bottom-line, for less And we'll water ourselves down into the mess
A crow on every clock tower A rook on every steeple Shadows without shadows Shoulders hunched toward the wind
A thick mist kisses office blocks I look for other people In that cold expanse of windows Do they see me looking in?
In the dead hour Pre-train and post-night bus Will we let the morning papers suck the life out of us?
But could you try, when I die To paint my shadow on the wall And when these organs are defeated Give the doctor free-for-all Oh cut me out, cut me up Little bits of me live on In drops of paint upon a wall, in lines of song A line in a song
Filthy streets cut dirty scars Through gutless architecture And the dead hour shift is fluoro, lit so sickeningly bright Circles of the air, condensed are softening the coaster Dust is just dead skin and hair Leave your chair, take back your life You see the buildings have begun to catch the light
Could you try, when I die To paint my shadow on the wall And when these organs are defeated Give the doctors free-for-all Oh cut me out, cut me up Little bits of me live on I can feel someone else's breath filling my lungs
Oh cut me out, cut me up Little bits of me live on My heart in someone else's chest, these lines in song A line in a song