So don't spend all your thoughts today wanting a better time or a better place, And don't let the vultures lead you astray too long. 'Cause you've got all this time to play, you can float from Brighton to Byron Bay, Or carry right onto Califor-ni-ay, my son... So is that your thing, When you've had a bit to drink, You turn into a monster? Jäger slows your need to think, And I thought I could say, Say you had it all, But deep inside when theres no melody you love, Then my dear(!), you ain't the hand that fits my glove... But thats okay 'Cause soon you'll be blessed, With a character like you And it's not that I didn't want you, I've wanted you since June '09, But now I've tested the water and I need a good excuse, It's not just about the music - you didn't even like my shoes... And then it's gone, So don't spend all your thoughts today wanting a better time or a better place, And don't let the vultures lead you astray too long. 'Cause you've got all this time to play, you can float from Brighton to Byron Bay, Or carry right onto Califor-ni-ay, my son... So if theres nothing in the way, Then who's blocked my shot? I'm allergic to something but I just don't know what, And I can't help but feel That there is something more, Like the words that others fail to see, Or the better lady that I want you to be... Oh but until that comes, I'll hide under a canvas, And I'll soak into my shirt, Scream out like a bloody murder, now is this what I deserve, But don't follow in my lead until I've proved it works, Instead float around from town to town and live in Gods Great Earth... And then it's gone, So don't spend all your thoughts today wanting a better time or a better place, And don't let the vultures lead you astray too long. 'Cause you've got all this time to play you, can float from Brighton to Byron Bay, Or carry right onto Califor-ni-ay, my son... If I could catapult, Myself to new heights, I'd hide up in the mountains, Knowing to resist with all my might, The crackpots and scams, Of Sittingbourne town... Like the blackcat merchants, thieves, the sinners and the poor And I've had my fair share whilst well hidden from the law But still I turn, To welcome myself, Back into these streets, I've gone away twice now, And returned and retreat, Rapping at another door to be opened, Praying I can lift my weighty feet, Moving boulders, bricks or bison, Now left lamenting history... And then it's gone, So don't spend all your thoughts today wanting a better time or a better place, And don't let the vultures lead you astray too long. 'Cause you've got all this time to play, you can float from Brighton to Byron Bay, Or carry right onto Califor-ni-ay, my son...

This course of curls, Protract the space, In a damning curse, Of a golden face, Where tones bend equally, But by singing hard, You bite your tongue, And then the rolling rambles, Well they rumble on, And continue sarcastically, To warm with warmth, No tickety boo, Just dark, stark, And protracted views, So marred. By loss née fate, Make me bold just like a whore, With a shrill sharp akin to the matador, When met with horns for blades, In the begging plea, Of a princess bee, To cut her from the line, But Oh my God, Oh my God, Where have you been, All this time? So a devilish game is played, Which plagues the player and the prey, Which turns the moral compass upside down, And delivers, The loss née fate A rape alarm with a snooze button, Be uncommon but still be, Now this type of boldness is everywhere, Just squint, And one shall see... This course of curls, And tones belie, Oh the Matador, the Whore and the Concubine, By varying degrees, The matador is relinquished by a beast, The whore is the beast that feasts, And the concubine goes from A to B, Just by virtue of immorality… Oh no and so; The feast is fed to the beast in bed, So forth and so farewell, While the concubine eats and sleeps instead waking only for the bell, And that is how everything will go for eternity...