The dust and the mess of our mornings,
Promise that we'll never quit
So drunk, though our hands surely woven
Entire fleets of staggering ships...
Now our ships line the floors of the ocean,
And the oceans breaching on the ridge,
And the terrified dreams of our wanderings
That once lit our way are now hid...

We want punks in the palace
'Cause punks got the loveliest dreams

And our gang is liquored and lovely,
And smart and sweet and lean,
And burn with a curious flame
That spits and kicks and shines
And trumpets the labour of wafing and trying

There ain't none - sometimes there is
Banged and bitter - but cling to it
Power's the province of miserable p____s
There ain't none but sometimes there is...

Policemen in parallel lines
Blind! Blind! Blind!
The broken bones of quivering pines while
Empty waters rise...

And the light of our striving still shines!
Blind! Blind! Blind!
May the light of our striving still shine
And may the light of our striving still shine...

Love the horse or leave the horse,
Love the horse or leave the horse,
Lover oh lover oh lover oh lover...

Some ! hearts ! are ! true ! Some ! hearts ! are ! true ! Some ! hearts ! are ! true !

Ahoy ! Ye bland plump boys
Go tear wings for vainful gain
Our home made choirs, like forest fires,
Hiss 'neath golden rain
And slip the leash and the chain,
And slip the leash and the chain -
Cause some hearts are true
But some hearts aren't hardly true
But some hearts are true...

See also:
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89.78
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