Triffids Hanging Shed
The berries are black and ripe and ready for picking
The chicken is dead, but it's still kicking
& theres one thing you must never forget;
what you did that night behind the hanging shed.
The goods you promised me, they were never delivered
Your cheques are curling at the corners, yellow and
withered
& theres one thing I won't let you forget;
what you did that night behind the hanging shed...
A strange unholy tale/a man beyond the pale
A men possessed by greed/a pasture gone to weed/an ugly
wound unveiled
One thing kind sir, still hanging over your head
is what you did that night hehiod the hanging shed.
The moon is full and fat and white and sick to the core
The blind man is croaking with his hand out for more
& theres one thing I will never forget;
what you did that night behind the hanging shed
