|
This is a song, not like the other ones, |
|
secret and selfish and somewhat hollow. |
|
In the middle of this song there seemed to grown another |
|
Of indeterminate length and origin. |
|
To populate a people's song, first you must do something wrong, |
|
If you've never been infirm you can never be strong. |
|
Prune your rose bushes, Djamila, (Glenn) |
|
Or you'll never see your home again. |
|
Country and city, kingdom of the well, of the unwell, |
|
You dwell in them both like a ghost - |
|
When old King George said to my long dead kin |
|
"Ten summers and winters in Arthur will do you in" |
|
He cut out his heart and he buried the sin there in England. |
|
Prune your rose bushes Luis, (Glenn) |
|
Oh they'll grow up again, |
|
There may still be a next year, who knows? |
|
If you're lonely take a drink, there are better things to think, |
|
Think on ancient cities, sunsets and girls in Spring. |
|
You needed a song, I needed one too, |
|
So keep listening |
|
FOR MY OFFER TO YOU |
|
Take it with good grace and humour too |
|
First came the golden age |
|
When there was no need of proof, |
|
When lions ate flowers and your house |
|
Didn't need a roof. |
|
Then came the silver days |
|
When a boy saw himself for the first time |
|
In the reflection of a blade |
|
Then he saw the way |
|
To populate a people's song. |
|
First he must do something wrong. |
|
If you've never heard the music you never will |
|
Prune your rose bushes Billy and Toby. (Glenn) |
|
So they'll soon grow up again, |
|
There may still be a next year, who knows? |
|
If you're lonely, take a drink, |
|
There are better things to think |
|
Think on ancient cities, sunsets and girls in Spring. |
|
Because all the tears that you mend, |
|
They will open up again. |
|
And weren't you suppose to call your friends this evening? |
|
It rained all night the day I left. |
|
The weather it was fine, |
|
It rained all night the day I left |
