I don't need the air to make fun of my hair,
I'm not Billy Joel's piano man;

Sing me a freedom leash
That bounds my determination to boundaries,
The gin bartender turned out to be a professor of physics,
I'll tell him next life that calculation is wary,
My eyes brings no flight or fight response,

I am but a weaver.

And now it's raining,
What a perfect day to ****!
I have washed the blood
With my blackened eye
An wrote you off the will;

I hope that you find amusement
When I fight your battles
I'll keep shut, bow my head
And I promise I won't tattle

It's a shame on a rainy day
To **** men and joy
I hope I can replace him
With another boy toy.

"What is 'Revolution' mum?
And why are there men with hats?"

"They fight for the country baby,
They are the good lads"

"Then what is my sister doing?
Holding placards and such?"

"Oh, that is nothing,
They are doing just for fun"

"She cries at home mum,
I don't want her to be sad,
When I asked her why you don't support her
She replied that you thought it was bad
Mum, she fights for the right things
And not for lies that are sold,
She says maybe you are deluded
And your thoughts are frail and old."