Tell me why you came here, squatting round a Game-Gear 
like Sega never died.
We met inside a warzone, you said "let's fuck the 
Ozone" but boy, that hole's too wide.
You goosestep round the garden singing "Sap I bleed is 
hardening, no tree can break my stoic stride,
I'm as giddy as a baby in a centrifuge - it's hard"

And we can argue that our planet's best, don't ring 
your brother cos there's no contest
I'm sure you'll make a decent father – there's a world 
war coming in - Oh the seasons I've been worrying

You drown a fly and murmur; "The Vatican was firmer, 
when I was back in school
and we use spray-tan in the trenches now, the problem 
with the French is how they won't admit they're fools
anything, I can't remember dates and times
and I'm sorry for the years I was a shipwreck boy - 
it's hard"

I want to tell you that it means so much.
I want to tell you that it means so much.
I'm sure you'll make a decent father - there's a world 
war coming in - Oh the years that I've been worrying

Oh, I'd rather dash myself upon the rocks, than see you 
waste away your days with clocks,
In every corner of your parent's home - and there's no 
world war coming in, all the reasons I've been 
worrying,
Just forget the parts you'll never need, all these 
things I'll tell you when you wake up.

Make a child, a child, a forest

Make a child, make a child, make a forest