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
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