Million Dead After The Rush Hour
I am the small town linesman, and you'll find me out
here on the line
Searching ceaselessly to simply find a place I can call
mine
And every corner of this country criss-crossed out with
coloured lines
A city lies before me, another city's sprawling out
behind
I am a frontiersman
Trapped in suburban England
And since the scramble ended
And since the west was won with wagon trails
And since Mazzini's paradisiacal panopticon prevailed
My walkabouts no longer take me beyond the choice of
different gaols
Why should I have to choose a state when every one of
them has failed?
I am frontiersman
Trapped in suburban England
And I promise not to overthrow the state
If allowed to redraw the atlas before I emigrate
So I have sailed the seven seas alone
Trying to find a shore I can call home
But all I found are different flags
And double-speaking diplomats
And I do not have time for that
So I'll declare my own sovereign state
The borders based on the bottoms of my boots
And I will open embassies wherever the hell I please
And at assemblies you will see me sat
But never on my knees
I am a frontiersman
Trapped in suburban England
And I promise not to overthrow the state
If allowed to redraw the atlas before I emigrate
And I'd gladly leave your Metternichs alone
As long as where I lay my head I can be my very own
I am the Winchester line man
I am a frontiersman
Trapped in suburban England
But here I will not remain
I'll ride into the sunset
My horse waits on the plain
And I'll keep walking the line
