Back when the world was young
Drunk on cheap well whisky
And confused on mescaline
Walking rattlesnake curves
On sidewalks that refused to lay down
Resisting
Resisting
Resisting all importunate invasion of reality
Back when the world was young
Searching for the gateway
To the secret garden
The maps to the labyrinth
And the silver key
With the woman in red shoes
whose name was maybe Dolores
Dolores?
Or perhaps her name was... Laverne?
Back when the world was young
And fear was so perfectly academic
And the scales were so perfectly poised
That i could still pace the razors edge
Without cutting my feet or losing any further toes
And i believed
And i believed
And i believed in every fucking drop of rain that fell
Back when the world was young
And you had but to softly ask
The crushed whisper of velvet
The sheer innocence of pure desire
And the requested favour was granted and gratified
So will somebody give?
So will somebody give?
So will somebody please
Give The Anarchist A Cigarette?