|
I met a mixer |
|
He talked the head off my throat |
|
He was built for the mountains |
|
But lived in a shoebox in Soho |
|
Strange as it sounds |
|
I didn't want dear motor-mouth to go |
|
Sara points to Paris |
|
Sara seems to sink in sorrow |
|
In the uproar of drunk dragons |
|
A single sudden move and we're toast |
|
We're all mortals prone to hurt |
|
Crushed berries in the dirt |
|
I know |
|
But this world's your world |
|
This world's your world to roam |
|
This land's your land |
|
I understand but I want to go home |
|
I want to go home |
|
Another rhubarbing barfly |
|
A zombie on a fruit machine |
|
Where the wallpaper reminds me |
|
Of a funeral from 2003 |
|
There's a town |
|
On a river |
|
On a planet |
|
On the shoulders of me |
|
But this world's your world |
|
This world's your world to roam |
|
This land's your land |
|
I understand but I want to go home |
|
I want to go home |
