I believe we're crossing the great ravine
Still yearning half way a stranger
I believe in our multiplicty
Still part-blind no reason for anger
I believe we pull up our roots and retreat
new crop of aerials in Dacca and Canberra

Why don't you tell me the [bad word] about you

Vaseline, you smeared it across every scene
Anchor-man drowns in a sea of sensation
Tyranny, [bad word] the young bird's seed
Hallowe'en's mate, short fuse of the banker

We're all spores but we're never eunuchs
Love's on the loose deflect the short tunic
And the [bad word] There's no judgement in ignorance I say

Some people tell me stories, wasting all my time
Some trying not receiving someone else's lies
It's my time, yes it's my time