The men were here to get your Belgian things

They'll store them for you in an airplane hangar

There's guys in biohazard suits

Mud kicking on their rubber boots

They've come to keep your pretty things from danger



The men were here to get your Belgian things

They'll spend the whole day hauling them downstairs

I shot a roll of thirty-two exposures

My camera groans beneath the weight it bears



I can see you in my sleep

Playing the points for all you're worth

Walking gingerly across the bruised earth



The men were here to get your Belgian things

They waltzed right through the door and went flourescent

Their boots were black and shiny and your treasures gleamed like stars

Bones from deep down in the fertile crescent



The arteries are clogging in the mainframe

There's too much information in the pipes

I saw the mess you left up in the east bedroom

A tiger's never gonna change its stripes

I guess

I guess but Jesus what a mess

One way in and no way out



The men were here to get your Belgian things

And only I was here to see them do it

I wish you had a number where you are

It's hard with no one here to help me through it



I can see you in my sleep

Playing the points for all you're worth

Walking gingerly across the bruised earth