I was born against my will in a land that God forgot
My parents didn’t ask me whether I was for or not
Anyway I learnt to appreciate it and to make with.
I was a spoiled child for I was loved and also clever
Mama’s proud and cooked my food, though already a liar,
My dad I did not see him too much, he was a blacksmith.
If there’s one very single thing I learnt all through these years
About moral, equality, justice, life, about here :
There ain’t no point and you only live to struggle and writhe ;
The world it’s noisy, it’s foolish, it’s random, and it’s torn
But still, I hadn’t been yet to the place where the buses get born.
The school it’s been a funny place to grow up teacher and child,
They lock you up learning life in a box and still I smiled,
The woman she was **** though couldn’t know what it meant
They stuffed my skull ‘til full and they blew the wind out my ears
With weary new ideas, with politically correct fears ;
After a necessary brainwashing, ready to be sent
Ready for society, for the actual system
You don’t understand it, but It’s made to make you one of them
They don’t even know it’s their own closed freedom that they lent
The greatest of all: it’s in the same school about it you been warned
And still, they keep well hidden the place where the buses get born
All the time I played football, I’s a great swimmer and all
They taught me to respect my body, to keep a plain soul
They told me to be generous and righteous and modest
And I was celebrated as the best, very handsome,
Clever and nice, have friends, don’t be a ****** or lonesome ;
It was fair and I agreed, to earn respect, to hold high my chest
I was proud and fulfilled to be me, you’d call that vanity
But you helped as well the lie, nor missed I a quality
We arrive here naked, my myself ain’t mine the slightest
Against the world’stones which you belong I been carved and worn
If only we’d known the place where the buses get born
Then on the way I became adolescent and aware
Of the happy merry-go round, of my weight on the chair
They told me I was windlike free, free to serve somebody
Overall to think as they do, as their fathers done before
To hate ******, Ignorance and Hatred and all the wars
To vote right or left and to avoid what they call ****
They gave those names to the different parties for me and you
Having easy to choose, without knowledge, interest too
You don’t need it for sure when you remember the big History
We can tell you what you want, even that chicken is corn
Cause you’d never seen the place where the buses get born
While living and probably others meaningful thingies
Came suddenly that handful of flaming pies harmonies
My brain couldn’t believe my ears and it tried to tell them
But my mouth’s busy singing what I soon know was Music
Later on behind a folk jew it melted with lyrics
That’s when I bought my guitar,but first I went to ask mum
Some insects were able to write a melody so plain
Like it could ease me support me and even cease the pain
But half of me died when I realized they’dnever come
I’ve been caught by the thirty years old bullet that shot Lennon
He must lie waiting for me, in the place where the buses get born.
I was told about the religions, lies and confusion
My dad always believed in Nothing without exception
God ain’t something but a joke, a lie, a drug, and a tool
Created by mankind and used and believed and deceived
For explaining and getting all that he hadn’t received ;
But the invention became the master and put the rules
The expert they tell you now it’s good story and advice
It is love and light for the humans, just like the green mice
Do you think we need it, d’you truly think we're such a fool
We don’t want you ages twisted manufactured gods to adorn
For the only truths reside inside the place where the buses get born
Thinking a while, it’s just matter of interpretation
When you speak with hidden words, expect incomprehension
I’m not the one to decide if either the terrorists
That we so truly abhor are even right or are wrong
Nor am I to say using violence is to be strong ;
But time is a big wheel, and for instance the communists :
Ain’t we all looking for equality between men and more
When it will stop turning, when truth’ll be knocking at your door
At the trial of History they’ll be hung or utopists
The movie can’t be finished by the end of the popcorn
Nothing never ends except in the place where the buses get born
Let’s talk about *** now because we are all here for that,
The dwarf, the Jew, the tall, the black, the women and the fat
Sometimes the disabled, excuse me if I had a laugh
Stupid instinct, horrible animal-like, true love so
When two lovers so entwined forget a while the sorrow
We learnt sciences freely and openly on photograph
I lost half my time thinking about and trying to get it
Maybe more, I’m a man, I’m a ***, I’m a stupid ***
If I have a ***** if I’m gay, now I can choose my path.
Although I don’t like it, it’s normal, I can even watch ****
But I haven’t been excited since in the place where the buses get born
T’was a long time and now, I met that rainbow-voiced bird
We tried to talk, we tried to sing, although nothing was heard
But as Lea says ‘you cannot expect too much, can you’
I went to the cupboard where she keeps well seen all her secrets
Some daddy’s book and cried photographs for my fake cigarettes
She held a handful of her soul and french fries necklace too
Fortunately I was blind and could only read the words
I wanted to talk about Wednesday afternoon, the third
Now I got my hopes in my pocket, and my pride to chew.
And these visions of Keira, they keep me up past the dawn
The night never falls in the place where the buses get born
My stand-up dreams are haunted but for a colorself ghost
It keeps on coming and going, either the train’s there or lost
The thief he’s on the flight but on his back still lie his lies
The Ladies of the game play quietly their tricks until night
‘Pleasure is the aim’ they argue, and me, I’ve stopped to fight
My body it’s wired and distant, like wish were my minds
The commander-in-chief he’s busy with thoughtful statements
The memory lays far with her, in her kitchen, in her basement
And on the paintings, on the screen, in each and every line
There’s something beautiful and suicidal and full of scorn
With that kind of love that doesn’t matter in the place where the buses get born
When Love ain’t love when a pile of regrets lies on your floor
And you’re patiently waiting Forgiveness to cross the door
Where will you turn to, who will you ask and where will you go
When you’ve lost only the chorus of all you need is love
When your clouds have hidden from you the faithful stars above
What will be left, what rope will you hold and what will you know
You could try alcohol, drugs, meaningless ***, try to have fun
You could buy forget yet doctor ain’t cheaper than a gun
There is hardly no mistake you regret less than a blow.
Everyone must have a conversation with the father of the sun
No cries ever come out the place where the buses get born
The truth is still present you know, it lies beneath the waves
You should’ve seen her face when she told me Eleanor’s been saved
Likewise images of she and her impregnate my skin :
As the masterpiece unmatched socks near a pile of dead books
She hadn’t read them-she needn’t- I can tell by her looks :
I know her well, I had little time with her and two evenin’
When Celine burnt a cigarette-shaped unclosed scar in my heart.
All those pictures I recollect preciously since we’re apart.
She’s the reason and the ends of all my thefts, ‘f all my sins.
I shout for her, strumming madly , blowing my hollow horn
For her to hear me there, in the place where the buses get born
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