|
On the high-rise estate |
|
What's at the back of your mind? |
|
On a three-day debate, on the high-rise estate |
|
What's at the back of your mind? |
|
Two icy cold hands conducting the way |
|
It's the Eskimo blood in my veins |
|
Amid concrete and clay and general decay |
|
Nature must still find a way |
|
So ignore all the codes of the day |
|
Let your juvenile impulses sway |
|
This way and that way and this way and that way |
|
God, how sex implores you to let yourself, lose yourself |
|
Stretch out and wait |
|
Stretch out and wait |
|
Let your puny body lie down, lie down |
|
As we lie, you say |
|
As we lie, you say |
|
Stretch out and |
|
Stretch out and wait |
|
Stretch out and wait |
|
Let your puny body lie down, lie down |
|
As we lie, you say |
|
Will the world end in the night time? |
|
I really don't know |
|
Or will the world end in the day time? |
|
I really don't know |
|
And is there any point ever having children? |
|
Oh, I don't know |
|
What I do know is we're here and it's now |
|
So, stretch out and wait |
|
Stretch out and wait |
|
There is no debate, no debate, no debate |
|
How can you consciously contemplate? |
|
When there's no debate, no debate |
|
Stretch out and wait |
|
Stretch out and wait |
|
Stretch out and wait |
|
Wait, wait, wait, wait |