I count the hours: you count the days. Together, we count the minutes in this Passion Play. Walk dusty miles. And I ride that train on a first class ticket, just to be with you again.
Picking up tired feet. Back from a far horizon. Cleaned up and brushed down. Dressed to look the part. Fresh from God's garden, I bring a gift of roses: To stand in sweet spring water and press them to your heart.
Like the Kipling cat, I walk alone - Never inviting trouble, never casting the stone. But this badge of honour is of tarnished tin. Light your guiding beacon to bring this fisher in.
Rusted and ropy. Dog-eared old copy. Vintage and classic, or just plain Jurassic: all words to describe me.
Relaxed in the knowledge that happily present are all things to sustain me, nurture and claim me: roll back the mileage.
You have settled beside me. To the far and the wide of me. A matter of choosing, of finding and losing on the rough ride with me.
Take whisky with water, kick stones down the gutter. Think back to long days with stale breath recycled in my face. Rattling through airways - plastic on cold trays. Watching through windows, deep landscapes below await another time and space.
There must come some time to walk through the night line. Hands tight: heads high. These are the dog-ear years. Don't turn back. Don't linger. For God's sake keep moving. Primitive shadows sidle beside.
She's catching the wind: the gentlest of breezes. It's a sensitive passage she's sailing - Through stormy straits, navigates my unfathomable failings.
She rises before me, reading me clearly. Empty nest left pressed in the pillow. She can shift, she can sway and bend like a willow.
I'm swept in the riptide, caught in a fish trap. Gift-wrapped in my soft self centre. Summer sun leaves me as one who can only taste winter. She's a good, a good God-send: she can bend like a willow.
With a fully armed angel to cover me quickly. I'm cool under enemy fire. If I fall, she can crawl right under the wire.
When I'm caustic and cold, she might dare to be bold - ease me round to her warm way of thinking: fill me up from the cup of love that she's drinking. And I find, given time. I can bend like a willow. She bends like a willow.
Hand in the snake pit - black mamba chase. Head through the lion's cage - head on a plate. Two feet on the hot coals - last dance at the ball. Blindfold on the tightrope - whenever you call. Be my slippery slider, Black Mamba crawl over me.
Dark thoughts of the sleepless - hung out to dry. Slip through the bedclothes - unblinking eye. Long tongue flickering - fixed stare grip. Sweet venomous potion, held to my lip. Be my slippery slider, Black Mamba crawl over me.
A tropical whisper. A sibilant kiss. Soft strike teasing. Dangerous bliss.
Hot mango flush. Ladies with ice cream hair - Gyroscopic pink neon beams - Everybody's happy about something. The crowd moves like a flock of startlings: they switch direction as one. Jive on the jukebox - Jack and Joker split the night air with whoop and holler. Faint aroma - wood smoke, old fish, diesel harbour, roadside mongrel, painted man with buttons barely holding, bursting belly bulging. Doe-eyed ragamuffin mumbling - Scolded for some vague infraction. Stole a penny candy-coloured sweetheart kiss down at the market. Down at the market all the world seems to simmer: Hot mango flush.
Hey little buddies: soft and silky night walkers. Dangerous species - Tiptoe menace long grass stalkers on my bed: no butter melting in your jaws. Bonding monster - Lethal weapon wearing claws.
Let's go out to hunt by numbers.
Tabby, spotted, black as coal - Serval, Margy, Caracal. Moggie in the moonlight listens: whiskered sensory miracle. Felis, befriend us - Egyptian Mau - Freya's familiar. Long in the future - Cloned disciples, the castle guard.
Well, I don't care to eat out in smart restaurants. I'd rather do a Vindaloo: take away is what I want. I was down at the old Bengal, having telephoned a treat when I saw her framed in the kitchen door. She looked good enough to eat. (And I mean eat.) She was a tall thin girl. She looked like a tall thin girl. She said, Whose is this carry-out? My face turned chilli red. Well, I don't know about carrying out, but you can carry me off to bed. (And I mean bed.) She was a tall thin girl. She moved like a tall thin girl. Maybe I can fetch for it, and maybe I can stretch for it.
I may not be a fat man and I'm not exactly small but when it all comes down, couldn't stand my ground. This girl was tall. (And I mean tall.)
Big boy Doane, he's a drummer. Don't play no tambourine but he's Madras hot on the bongo trot, if you know just what I mean. Stands six foot three in his underwear; going to get him down here and see if this good lady's got a little sister 'bout the same size as me. She was a tall thin girl. She looked like a tall thin girl. Well, can I fetch for it? Well, maybe I can stretch for it? Well, am I up for it? Or do I have to go down for it?
I've been treated for mild depression and I've been treated for growing pains. I've been treated for hallucinations; now I can see it all coming again. Well, you can wind me up. Yeah, you can slow me down. You can dig a little, and you can mess me around. But there's one thing I should tell you, to which you must agree: There's no use you playing doctor to my disease. Said it's no use you playing doctor to my disease.
I got no cure for this condition that you've been causing me tonight. Well, you put my heart in overdrive: hand me the bullet I must bite. You can stir me up and you can cut me down. You can probe a little, push that knife around. But there's one thing I should tell you, to which you must agree: It's no use you playing doctor to my disease.
Do you have to break my engine so you can fix it up again? Tuned to crazy imperfection just to score me out of ten. Well, you can wind me up. Yeah, you can slow me down. You can dig a little. Yeah, you can mess me around. But there's one thing I should tell you, to which you must agree: That it's no use you playing doctor to my disease.
It's a lonely life I live and I live this life to go and if I leave you with one thing it's just that I want you to know I'll still be loving you tonight.
I left flowers on your table, left the lock on your door. Staked a claim in your heartlands, put grain in your store. I'll still be loving you tonight. Got fingers on the button of that telephone dial. Call in and move your mountains, fill your spaces while I'm still loving you tonight.
You want to know how I can leave you? How can I move along this way? Too much of a good thing can make you crazy and it's a good thing that happened to me today. I'll still be loving you tonight.
All of you sit up in bed. Don't think in straight lines ahead. Can't sleep? Head spin? Don't think in circles, it'll do you in. Think back to the dream you had; no sense of being good or bad. Jump to the left, jump to the right. Think round corners into night.
Let's go in wet corridors: dive down drains. Draw strength from machinery, it's al] the same. Thinking round corners. Think round corners, I say.
Pretty girl with neon eyes: best man between white thighs. Bridegroom didn't know a thing: got his love in lights, she wears two rings. Think back to that dream you had. Blue boy sorry, pink girl sad. Yellow cow, big-eyed moon all coming round the corner soon.
Let's stand in rapids: cling to carnivals. Spit life from the maypole in savage ceremony. Let's go in wet corridors: dive down drains. Draw strength from machinery, it's all the same. Thinking round corners. Think round corners, I say.
Paper cowboys, tin drums banging where the white man comes. Landowners with whips and chains but soft in bed amidst warm rains. Thinking back to the dream they had. Jack and Jill. Jack the lad. Homestead. Home free. How about leaving some for me?
Let's bathe in malt whisky: covet gold finery through the eyes of a Jackdaw, dressed to the nines. Let's go in wet corridors: dive down drains. Draw strength from machinery, it's all the same. Thinking round corners. Think round corners, I say. Thinking round corners.
You want to be a bookworm? You wanna be aloof? You wanna sit in judgement, looking down from the roof? Try a wee sensation: but first you have to want to join in. You should be, should be raging down the freeway with some friends from the mall. Don't stay forever in your limbo: fly before you fall little sparrow on the schoolyard wall.
So dress a little dangerous and modify your walk. There's nothing wrong with sparrows, but try to be a sparrowhawk. Hunting in the evening and floating in the heat in the day. You might, might acquire some predatory instinct. Do the wolf pack crawl. Don't stay forever in your limbo: fly before you fall little sparrow on the schoolyard wall.
Well, I don't want to be your daddy. Don't want to be your engineer of sin. And I don't want to play the piper here. I'm only banging on a mandolin and anyway, you're just a little sparrow on the schoolyard wall.
There's nothing wrong with learning. Nothing wrong with your books. So exercise some judgement. Too much broth can spoil the cook. Feel a little sensation and know when it's time to join in. You should be, should be raging down the freeway with some friends from the mall. Don't stay forever in your limbo: fly before you fall little sparrow on the schoolyard wall.
There's a black cat down on the quayside. Ship's lights, green eyes glowing in the dark. Two young cops handing out a beating: know how to hurt and leave no mark. Down in the half-lit bar of the hotel there's a call for the last round of the day. Push back the stool, take that elevator ride. Fall in bed and kick my shoes away. Rocks on the road.
Can't sleep through the wild sound of the city. Hear a car full of young boys heading for a fight. Long distance telephone keeps ringing out engaged: wonder who you're talking with tonight. Who you talking with tonight? Rocks on the road.
Tired plumbing wakes me in the morning. Shower runs hot, runs cold playing with me. Well, I'm up for the down side, life's a bitch and all that stuff: so come and shake some apples from my tree. Have to pay for my minibar madness. Itemised phone bill overload. Well now, how about some heavy rolling? Move these rocks on the road.
Crumbs on the breakfast table. And a million other little things to spoil my day. Now how about a little light music to chase it all away? To chase it all away.
There's a black cat down on the quayside. Ship's lights, green eyes glowing in the dark. Two young cops handing out a beating: know how to hurt and leave no mark. Down in the half-lit bar of the hotel there's a call for the last round of the day. Push back the stool, take that elevator ride. Fall in bed and kick my shoes away. Kick my shoes away, kick my shoes away. Rocks on the road.
Roll yer own. Don't mean you got no money. Only that you got no opportunity to shake it with that friend of mine. Roll yer own if you can't buy readymade; you won't be satisfied when you feel the sudden need to unwind. You know what moves you in the wee hours when there's nothing on the answerphone. And if you don't get enough of that electric love don't try to get by --- roll yer own, roll it when there's no-one listening: when those re-runs play on the late-night black and white TV. Roll yer own, roll it when there's something missing and those wild cats howl, running in the moonshine.
Roll yer own: you got to hit that spot. Roll yer own when your hands are hot.
Well, you got a big-jib crane waiting to pick you up. Mmmm, you see those snakes that crawl, they're just dying to trip you up. Live out in sad shacks at the back of town. Hold your breath while we do you down 'cos we're all kinds of animals coming here: occasional demons too.
Well, you got a nice apartment here with appliances and CD. We're gonna leave your stereo, but we'll have your soul for tea. I'm not speaking of material things. Gonna chew you up, gonna suck you in 'cos we're all kinds of animals coming here: occasional demons too.
Smokestacks, belching black, we're the have-nots in your shade. How about a slice of life, how about some human trade? Eat at the best table in town. No headwaiter going to turn us down 'cos we're all kinds of animals coming here: occasional demons too.
Winds howled, rains spit down. All these nights playing precious games. Cheap hotel in some seaboard town Closed down for the winter and whispered names. Puppy-dog waves on a big moon sea Snapped our heels half-heartedly. How come you know better than me that this is not love? No, this is not love.
Empty drugstore, postcards freeze Sunburst images of summers gone. Think I see us in these promenade days Before we learned October's song. Out on the headland, one gale-whipped tree - Curious, head bent to see. How come you know better than me that this is not love? No, this is not love. This is not love, yeah.
How come you know better than me, Well, how come you know better than me. So how come you know better than me that this is not love? This is not love.
Down to the sad south, smoky plumes Mark that real world city home. Broken spells and silent gloom Ooze from that concrete honeycomb. Puppy-dog waves on a big moon sea Snapped our heels half-heartedly. And how come you know better than me that this is not love? No, this is not love. No, this is not love. This is not love, this is not love, this is not love.
In the shuffling madness Of the locomotive breath Runs the all time loser Headlong to his death Oh, he feels the pistons screaming Steam breaking on his brow Old Charlie stole the handle And the train it won't stop going No way to slow down
He sees his children jumpin’ off At stations one by one His woman and his best friend In bed and having fun So he's crawling down the corridor On his hands and knees Old Charlie stole the handle And the train it won't stop going No way to slow down
He hears the silence howling Catches angels as they fall And the all time winner Has got him by the balls Oh, he picks up Gideon's Bible Open at page one I think God, he stole the handle And the train it won't stop going No way to slow down
No way to slow down No way to slow down No way to slow down No way to slow down
