The dust and the mess of our mornings,
Promise that well 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 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 kicks shines
And trumpets the labour of waking trying…
There aint none – sometimes there is –
Banged bitter – but cling to it –
Powers the province of miserable pricks
There aint none but sometimes there is…
Policemen in parallel lines blind! blind! blind!
The broken bones of quivering pines
While empty waters rise
May the light of our striving still shine!
Blind! Blind! Blind!
May the light of our striving still shine!
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…
God damn you lover
Some! Hearts! Are! True!
Some! Hearts! Are! True!
Ahoy! Ye bland plump boys –
Go tear wings for vainful gain
Our homemade 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 arent hardly true
But some hearts are true…