Walked downstairs
Got my hat and my corny brown leather jacket
Streets were grey and clean for a change
Must have been the rain
Thought transference
And this man in digs with me would spit out
two or three teeth a night on the floor
Winter is here, unlike yourself
Cold, pulled my shirt up
Service
Kicked the leaves
Learning about time,
Time of the vulperines
Time of the wolverines
They sit rotting, the leaves
Kick the brown branches, it is here
I came home and found I could say the word "entrepreneur"
and my problem began
Service
(Every man wants to be what he is not.)
At my feet, one who laughs at anything.
And at my head, one that laughs at nothing
And I'm just in-between
This day's portion
Service
(You would not like it if you knew it)
(Why you have tears in your eyes from infotainment?)
Winter is here
I've got a witch on my left shoulder
My future's here
Now I will kick the broken branches
They're this day's portion of this day's portion
Didn't want to wake up and learn,
I've learnt the word 'entrepreneur"
Wandered around, found out,
Didn't want to say the word, roll it around in your mouth
Every man jack wants to be what he is not.
Service.
Little boys are taking over
They mumble through the grass
There are not fit to be in the company of vulperines and wolverines
Too many heads knocking about.
Service.
This day's portion, this day's portion.
Why do you have a cloud in your eye from infotainment?