Legendary Pink Dots Down From The Country
Down from the country, oh he had such plans - about
making some money, about living, being a man.
Packed his belongings in a battered old case.
Yes that look of fulfillment, well it stretched across
his face.
Thought about his new life, maybe he'd find himself a
girl; share a flat and a mattress.
Sure, they'd build that Brave New World.
Take a job in an office, start low but proud.
He could work all the hours - hours the clock would
allow.
And he'd reach new horizons, put some money away.
Buy a house in the suburbs, maybe have a son on the
way.
Yes, down in the country: schemes and dreams stretch
high, no limitations, they train you right.
You take the whole world on a whim.
Down in the station with his foot on his case, well he
met some new friends, said they'd show him round the
place.
And they bought him a burger, and they showed him the
sights.
And he played Space Invaders.
Oh he got stoned by the light.
Then down to the nightclubs, bought him all of his
drinks.
And the sweet-smelling ladies, well, they're looking
just at him.
Had a glass too many, had nowhere to go.
And he tripped on a table, they said: ''Time we walked
you home.''
And they each took a shoulder, brought a grin to his
face.
Gentle limp through the doorway, gently lifted up his
case.
Short-cut through the alley, stopped a while for a
rest.
Fingers rifled his pockets ... but no success.
And they spread his belongings in the dirt and the
rain, and of course they found nothing, as he feebly
tried to explain.
Now down in the country, sort things out with your
fists.
And he never had a prayer as the switchblade cut his
wrists, his chest, his arms.
And the neon gods took him, and they showed him the
ropes.
Now he hops down the alley - a city ghost.
