Borrowed grapes from stores of gold

Put plastic back where metal's sold

Men in quarries connect their bomb

One two three, a new Saigon





Check the bottle, is it full?

Have you found which pin to pull?

Boys in shirts get dirty hands

Smoke kills seagulls on the sands





They have pages, they take ages

To read and to learn

They're heavy to carry and easy to burn

Volumes have secrets

Take them on holiday

Book them a room, save them a moment, swallow their swoon





Pretty things all in a row

Flowers who can't seem to grow

Finding the pearls, then finding the blood

And finding the water is wood





The something I wanted has just flown by

It looked at me sideways and told me to try

I hope it's a message from someone obscure

I hope it's the man next door