Spiritual Journey (Mother Milk Edit)
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Crocodiles and crocodile eagles
All on a bumpy sea
A river stocked with mad canoes
And songs of the toothy mouth
All on a river of unbelieving
Bumpy, blue and deep
Where none but the brave may brood or slave
This river is a sin
Some calm outlaw collecting his thirst
In a hat full of loco water
Squinting a look towards the mountains
And in a cup containing the whole sky
I find no fault in myself in this
But it's clear from your experience
Avarice and love of adventure
Medallions on the breast
Suits you
But you are here with fixed bayonet
I would enter the jets of Havel's
You'd send a man of my experience
Out into the land of the bazoo-zoo?
I'd rather go to Britain
When I was in Africa
The agony
Sometimes a fully fledged man
Can think only of his mother
What the hell do you think's
Holding the bloody tent up?
I know I'm exactly for planning
But man must have his rest
Never need to argue with you
Take them
That sucks