Testo: Million Dead. Other. Holloway Prison Blues.

The leg bone is connected to the
Foot bone is connected to the
Export Processing Zones.
And it's nothing we condone.
But everybody owns
A pair of those shoes.
The bloodstream gets its sugar from the
Intestine gets its sugar from the
Supermarket chain
That left the village drained.
Every high street, same soulless refrain.
I looked a lttle closer at
The walls of my house
And to my surprise
They were made out of glass.
So i made my way softly
Towards my front door,
But to my surprise
It was bolted shut and barred.
The newspaper reads like
A list of charges brought against me.
So I'm changing my plea to
An open address to the jury.
I confess
That I was there on that grassy knoll,
And I confess
I helped fake the moon landings as well.
But I confess
I've yet to let slip my lowest low:
There've been times when
I've pretended I didnt know
About my skeleton.
Your honour I swear that i can explai:
There are mitigating factors to consider
In this case;
I was looking out of a window to the west.
Francis Fukyama took me by the arm.
Won me over with his famous
Inetellectual charm,
Swore this beauty wouldn't do any harm.
We didn't look east
Because the sun was setting.
It's easy to lose yourself
In the faintest reflection in the
Pane of a window.
I suspect that I've lost myself
In the guilty reflection of
The pain that it lets through.
I must confess I've started
Throwing stones
Around the house.
I don't mean to moan
But i never even
Signed the lease.