there's a king in the mirror
and the king needs a shave
there's anxiety in the razor
like the men stuck in his cave
we will stay on the corner
we will sleep on the street
we hold the sign
pointing to sometime
next week

heard you making love to someone nice
heard you making love to someone nice
reading them everything you got
from marx to fryin rice

you think she’d be happy but she’s not
you think she’d be happy but she’s not
no matter what you do,
she’s like that a lot

playing with the bulls
stabbing the cattle
they are keeping me starving
whilst locked in the castle

ugly politicians
but nothing uglier than me
their friends are at the harbour
whilst strangers drown at sea

lying through their teeth
like the old lazy drunk
the ships are on fire
and their friends have all sunk

we're selling the bulls
eating the cattle
the politicians are hanging dead
and the people have the castle

once a snowman
twice ate paint
never shared a bed
nothing here for free

borrowing a coat
holes in the mirror
only passing through
the way you treat her

keeping your bathsheba
praising your cain
a ballad to the perverted
to ease the pain

jealous of that taxi you rode. jealous of that man you rode.
jealous of the shelf space you made for him.
jealous of the polaroids of polaroids taken.
shame he's prettier than me. jealous of your mirror.
jealous of your curtains.
jealous of your tibia.
jealous of the light switch.
shame we weren't prettier.

we used to share a bed

i was that girl from alabama. denied the basics so you could have her. i was the spanish, the belgian, killing my brothers. i was in israel, seeing those brothers. i was american, forgetting those sisters. i was that man in alabama. denying the girl the basics so i could have her. treating her worse so i could have her. keeping her worse so men could have her. telling her worse so tv could haver her. hitting her worse so courts could have her. i was the portuguese, selling brunoise. i was the english, selling those brothers.

i was that girl from alabama