[electronic music]

It's the night time and a jailor at the door
And the daylight and the bluebird are no more
It's the hand that fits the fingers and the glove
it's the phosphor on the viaduct of love
And the trucks on the horizon dig the floor
Ain't the breakfast of the champions no more
It's the gift that keeps the lupine from the door
It's the coinflip that decides you are no more!

You better stop messing with the lighter
If you don't want to get fire
In the kindling of a flammable soul
And the bung that stops the flow
Of all the lava and the golden
that you'd rather not be having on show

It's the censorship of blinding dynamite
It's an unsung hero crying through the night
It's the humming of a grinding little tune
And the screaming of prayer up to the moon
It's the porcelain proprietor carefree
And the copper coloured rioter buried
It's the sulphur in flow of the supply
It's the delta and the basin compromised

Every sinew every fibre could be bonafide dynamite
Don't lip-sync an achievable goal
Every minute, every hour
There's a scandal 'bout to flower
In the gaslight of a terrible glow

Put the kettle on!

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