[spoken] 

Then I went down into the basement 

where my friend the maniac busy's himself with his electronic grafiti 

Finally his language touches me 

because he talks to the part of us 

which insists on drawing profiles on prison walls. 

In that moment poetry will be made by everyone 

and there will be emu's in the zone... 



Mist covers the ground 

In the city 

Engine rumbles quiet 

As we drift by 



I wish you could see it 

Through my crooked eye 

Oh your beauty 

Plays me just like a guitar string (it's so true)



I want your touch 

Oh how I want you far too much 

She my baby 

He's my baby 



Ahhhhh [x8] 



Days drift into one 

It's so pretty 

Travelling Wilbury's, Polly's photofits 

And this stolen car 

Is loaded with junk 

It's so dirty 

He'll be the death of me 

But that's ok 



I want your touch 

Oh how I want you far too much 

She my baby 

He's my baby 



Ahhhhh [x8]