Jet-Lag - Severed Heads, 400 Blows

Severed Heads

Bad Mood Guy

Jetlag

Rode in the grip of an angel

Hands tied in cords of gold

We’d made a deal, I went astray

Now I’m falling with hell to pay

Rode in the grip of an angel

Occupied with thoughts of gold

I learned a dance on the head of a pin

It didn’t save me from eternal sin

C Now I’m learning to fly by myself

Stealing my grain from the mouths of birds

Touch ground for an occasional birdbath

Crap on the heads of passers-by

«Fairy Land doesn’t last forever.

Making fun of my moping around and being

A pain in the arse, etc., etc. Another one of these flying songs.

We’ve

Actually dropped the lyrics on later versions.

They’re a bit obvious

Y’know.»