gerard quain, 27 february 2012
Going to the desert
Trying to remember his name
Pondering his gift
Was it all in vain
The three wise monkey's
Light up thier spliff's
Human's turn to lemmings
And gather at the cliffs
Going to the desert
Trying to remember his name
Pondering his gift
Was it all in vain
Economist's play a hot tune
As the blind mice dance
As the beat builds
Everyone is caught in a trance
Going to the desert
Trying to remember his name
Pondering his gift
Was it all in vain
The bankers want a pounbd of flesh
But they say, they don't want blood
Tell that to the poor
When they gentrify their neighbourhood
Going to the desert
Trying to remember his name
Pondering his gift
Was it all in vain
Lord forgive us
For our considerable shame
We know not what we do
We just play the game
Going to the desert
Trying to remember his name
Pondering his gift
Was it all in vain
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