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Does it feel like religion, |
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Does it crush your old ideas? |
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Well fold me in paper |
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I've got some here |
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And show me the warrant |
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To which I will attest |
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Put me in handcuffs, or give it a rest |
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The light through the windows |
|
Cast doubt on the mermaids |
|
And they sing at the bottom of the sea |
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You've run out of business |
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In light of what you want |
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You've come wielding plastic |
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And gone straight to the front |
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You've rejigged and counted, |
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Its amounted, not to much |
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I'll give you my credence, if thats not enough |
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The light through he window |
|
Casts down on the mermaids |
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And they sink to the bottom of the sea |
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You're reading the letters that no-one ever wrote |
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I'm moving through something |
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I travel in hope |
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So read me the warrant, to which I will attest |
|
Put me in handcuffs, or give it a rest |
|
The light through he window |
|
Casts doubt on the mermaids |
|
And they sing at the bottom of the sea |
