Princes and paupers, skivvies and skanks
One road down skint street another
Day in the worm field of pout
Porous as Jesus on the Sermon
On the mount
Serpico in trousers
And a snake in a mexican hat
And sheepskin corruption
In the belly of the crow
Crawling in lower orders of
skid row
And I see in the lights
That are beginning to glow
My reflection in the eyes
Of those I used to know
What are these cathedrals of doubt
That grow
Up from the sewers
Where trout eggs sew
And uncertain notes
On their organs blow
Around the city drain pipes
For surely this is the one place
That's left
A crescent on a jacket
A sin of lifelessness
A cordon-bleu accompaniment
To swordfish stew
Whom the unicorns have been cooking
Well who knew?
The Walrus in the dental church is checking out the labour
And counting all the costs
Of being a super-saver
And if you can't save the whales
THen Aquaman needs you
To be his PA and keep his filing cabinet
In good working order
I charged you up like a light sabour and shone you through the dark
And it met with many of the stars
Whose wars were not with me but with the skylark
Who sang to St Luke in his hot bath
Who raised cold lazarus from his bed of damp bark
And sent him off on his midnight
Canoe
Down the milky river, but again who knew?
Who knew of hercules and his labour too
Or of the midwfe whose breath was over due
And bank balances weighed
And babies in carts
And supermarket slaves
And children who swim with sharks
And the kettle is boiling over
Because its been filled to the brim
Now the tea has to brew
And every patience is a virtue
who knew?
I met a man with a can of worms down by the railroad edge
He said I've been down every road in the world
But I've never broken my pledge
But the roads have broken
And the cart wheels
The chariot charities are tokens
Of deal or no deal
And if you believe what was spoken
Then it forces you to steal
What was never yours to take in the first place
Who knew?
Like dogs in the park
Where the homeless man slept
And he is in abject dejection
And my own parle with ennui
Amounts to a certain British-Russian defection
Someone wishes me dead he said
Then talked to a dog on the bone
He licked his chops
Then smacked his lips and said
Now I think I'll go home
But it was the case of the spy who loved me,
And she would never let him win
He may take diamonds, he may take pearls
But he'll take the heart of the girl
What a sin!
To love a foreign man from a foreign clime
And bend to the whim or rule of the crime
It's a moral defection
And inbred introspection
That leaves Frankestein's monster
Scratching his chin
Who knew?
