Chorus: Think I'll have lines on my face When i get out of this placE So I guess I'll be ever so carefull It wouldn't help to deny I'm well advised to comply By the rules or be ever so tearful
I caught a vulture, he came up behind me I put a chain on his claws I caught another - been trying to find me I slit a vein in his jaws Tied the two of them up with guitar-strings (only fed them a bone) Grinned and put my hands in my pockets To drift away to a land of my own
Chorus: Think I'll have lines on my face When i get out of this placE So I guess I'll be ever so carefull It wouldn't help to deny I'm well advised to comply By the rules or be ever so tearful
We played a game of Cowards and Heroes We lay the rules on the floor But then we spoke of flowers and quiros It ended up in a draw But all the time they were bound and belittled I wouldn't let them go . go, go ! I only want to use them for skittles And drift away to a land of my own
They were begging over and over; "If we behave can we feed ?" began to throw them piece of clover And said;"Now count the leaves !" I realised it was only a battle And went to look for the war (haw ! haw !) My brains began then to rattle and drift away to a land of their own
Compositor: Stephen Malcolm Ronald Nice ECAD: Obra #14318063