The sunbeams, golden-yellow, cast shadows of thick iron bars,
they reach you, and your heart begings to beat faster,
little bird you flap your wings, small mind thinking that will make it barable
the sun burns the feathers from your flesh,
a smell that will never relinquish
And the housing complain
"That smell, there must be somthing you can do..."
"People will never move in under these conditions."
Oh yes, I smile your circus is straining.
You pull on my strings, I lift my hand, hand to mouth
Release the thought from my mind
The elephant man that stands on the ball,
the ugly pupet you laugh at,
the tight rope walker you beg to fall,
the lion tamer you wish to see excitment from,
what are you waiting for disembodied limbs?
And the men they besiege me to sleep with,
only coat me with sugar and lies
Yes, this is some sort of living
But there is nothing you can do,
To free yourself
Are you waiting to sleep on the street?
Oh yes, my dears, emerse yourself in that bottle of booze
And laugh and joke, those women, they are your property,
They are only there for you to stroke and hit,
People warn you, that look in there that says they hate you,
They are dissapointed, but you are amuned you do not see it
So thats it, flap your wings little bird
As if that will make it barable
The more women and booze you ingest the better,
right my friend?
Why don't you go sleep it off on the street corner,
They took your wallet really?
And you expect smypathy? I'm sorry but that shop is closed for the day.