Old Fools -

You’ve got your clukes in me

Our legs locked at right angles

Should scatter like pigeons

But I’ll stay here and make sweat with you

And kick my own guts out

Lose a pint of self respect

Statued and sellotaped

Tongue-tied and desolate

Blow unlucky eyelashes and hide the stray hairs

Or should we just give up

Take backward bounds and leaps

And sit and shy shiver while

While the latest one sleeps

Cry from the bedroom

Clean all the blankets

Spend your time wishing back an act that is thankless

And those old fools have got nothing on me

This is a monolith

Can’t help but struggle with

The will and the wayward old hat ideals

The weight of the uniform and the way that it feels

We can’t see round it and all the while we

Cry from the bedroom

Clean all the blankets

Spend your time wishing back an act that is thankless

And those old fools have got nothing on me

And the distance maps out like the flag of a country

I never knew

And hay bales with eyes half shut like sheep on sleeping pills under the blue

Now sink down you balsa wood box in your chair like

It was the dirt

I’m going home to certain death, to certain death

It doesn’t have to be this way

It doesn’t have to be this way

It doesn’t have to be this way

It doesn’t have to be this way

Cry from the bedroom

Clean all the blankets

Spend your time wishing back an act that is thankless

And those old fools have got nothing on me

Those old fools have got nothing on me

Those old fools have got nothing on me

Those old fools have got nothing on me