| I go out walking with the old departed, | |
| And I've been dreaming of these souls, | |
| I feel so close in darkness, | |
| I've got the vapor on my skin, | |
| Tasting cold hard history each time my body chooses to, | |
| Breath in a bird there is a honey bee, | |
| Within richness there is polity, | |
| Stick religion up your blasphemy | |
| Mister Richard Christopher and Anthony, | |
| Christopher and Anthony | |
| Christopher and Anthony | |
| Christopher and Anthony | |
| Christopher and Anthony | |
| And if they feed me to the lions, | |
| At least the name that's swallowed up somehow gets left behind, | |
| It's on my passport and mine too, | |
| Stop with me religously, | |
| Like prisoners with gantile | |
| To the east the wind was westily | |
| Wicked witches ducked regretfully, | |
| This harmonica are mine eternally, | |
| Mister Richard Christopher Anthony, | |
| Christopher and Anthony, | |
| Christopher and Anthony | |
| Christopher and Anthony | |
| Christopher and Anthony |
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