Birocracy

Can you play electric organ?

Can you play the lie of the land?

Can you paint a better tartan?

Sudden apples strewed on the dawns

Butcher birds and Jackie Hangmans

Double digit fugitive

Intra-Schengen cars and blam blams

A bigger scope, the lie of the land

Manifestly social sculpture lines

For all those well-trained men of the world

Never let me down you vultures then

Pick my bones clean, pick them all clean

I would play my big bassoon

(Big bassoon, like the bard's)

I would harvest marble hours

(On the moon, to glitter the culture)

I would make some animal

But not too soon, you just wait and see

I would dig no frightening hole

To stop, to stop, to stop it on me

Finger pulse and all the parlay

Sinking faster than half of the nine

I have been to Harlem Dover

I have seen the end of the line

Brick it all up, the perfect England

Black it in your coronet hearts

On the moon, to glitter the culture

I would play my big bassoon

(Big bassoon, like the bard's)

I would harvest marble hours

(On the moon, to glitter the culture)

(Big bassoon, on the moon)

(Like the bard's, to glitter the culture)

I would play my big bassoon

(Big bassoon, like the bard's)

I would harvest marble hours

(On the moon, to glitter the culture)