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