There's a man who walks the lonely field at midnight He wears a matching suit, steel tipped shoes and the diamonds And he holds the dying flame, the loaded dice and the answer He stalks the open road that leads form here to there You'd better look out, watch out, beware There's no safety here Crouched by the fence, sweat dries cold on your every breath
Where's the saviour that the critics dream about now He's telling jokes to all the saviours in the ward Be warned when it comes to that, to the point of indecision When you hesitate, he'll make his choice for you
You better look out, beware There's no safety here (no, no, no safety) Crouched by the fence, sweat dried cold on your every breath His eyes, they turn red You think and recall what he said
He puts a name to every face Table talk and wall to wall Winners win the game, and the losers win the war Resurrection, intersection, comic books and mass defection Vinyl floor and sliding doors, nothing more Lost the thread of conversation Sentence fails and engine roars No recall, blindfold to the stairs Is it now? Is it now?
(Moginie/Garrett)
Compositores: Peter Roberts Garrett (Peter Garrett), James Paul Moginie (James Moginie), Martin Magnus Rotsey (Martin Rotsey), Robert George Hirst (Ghostwriter), Andrew Robert James ECAD: Obra #4031245