The house caught on fire in the winter 
The bosses lay slain 
And each of the workers decided to ten-fold their pay 
And they saw in the mirror the sun had been shot down in flames 
And nobody minded the hole in the sky or the rain 
But it doesn't really matter when the judgements are said 
'cos we all take our chances to find out romance is in some others bed 
And you might burn your fingers hock your best rings for those 
Who'd have you standing naked then publicly auction the use of a hose 
All the children were laughing their faces in half at the pain 
Of the girl who loved talking to walls and jumping at trains 
And the words that ring [bad word] in the playground of fools will remain 
And nobody minded the hole in the sky or the rain 
But it doesn't really matter when the rights have been read 
'cos we all take our chances to glance at the wife in the opposite bed 
And I bet Nero and Pilate could easily explain 
How policemen & pirates get stoned in glass houses just finding their way.

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MUSIC IS WARM GUN [bad word] no_good_music