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)