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I go out walking with the old departed, |
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And I've been dreaming of these souls, |
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I feel so close in darkness, |
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I've got the vapor on my skin, |
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Tasting cold hard history each time my body chooses to, |
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Breath in a bird there is a honey bee, |
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Within richness there is polity, |
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Stick religion up your blasphemy |
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Mister Richard Christopher and Anthony, |
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Christopher and Anthony |
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Christopher and Anthony |
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Christopher and Anthony |
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Christopher and Anthony |
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And if they feed me to the lions, |
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At least the name that's swallowed up somehow gets left behind, |
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It's on my passport and mine too, |
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Stop with me religously, |
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Like prisoners with gantile |
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To the east the wind was westily |
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Wicked witches ducked regretfully, |
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This harmonica are mine eternally, |
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Mister Richard Christopher Anthony, |
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Christopher and Anthony, |
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Christopher and Anthony |
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Christopher and Anthony |
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Christopher and Anthony |
