The skeletal hand of the fat-cat holds out the bleeding heart of care
“We’ve got a job for you, son, if you can do it”
“What’s that then, sir?”
“We need artists to whitewash the walls of history”



I’m burning monkeys for the miners
I’m eating uncooked meat
Talk in tongues of silence with concrete around me
I sing the ballad of the salty sea
Backed by heavens choir singing with a upper class voice
The waves are getting higher



In the hell and high
In the feverish heat
In the hell and high



Queens P.M.s Presidents parading through time
Treading unremembered nameless heads down into the slime
I’ll beat you out your dying march on a tambourine of scales
I’ll stretch my skin out like bat wings and sail upon a whale



In the hell and high
In the feverish heat
In the hell and high



My head moans into a fever of hypocrisy and lies
The circles on the water grow like rings around my eyes
Old black midnight is falling
In British hammer style
They rub whiskey in my weals, force drinking camomile



In the hell and high
In the feverish heat
In the hell and high



This is the leg-room calling
Captain permission to dance on the burning deck?
Fire away, boys, boiler room… more steam
Cheers, chief! Right swabs, let’s start with the feet
Get tapping feet
Get moving to the mighty ocean beat
We’re movin’ boss, we’re movin’
Okay, hips, let’s see you swingin’



In the hell and high
In the feverish heat
In the hell and high



Blue rinsed old ladies push hate mail
They push it through my door
You say P is for poodle
I bark and crawl on all fours
My own life tale beats out
It struggles through the gale
I’ll stretch my skin out like bat wings and sail upon a whale



In the hell and high
In the feverish heat
In the hell and high



Hey, backbone are you lot listening
Yes! Then slip, baby, slip
I stretch my skin out like bat wings