In a jungle of the senses
Tinkerbell and Jack the Ripper
Love has no meaning, not where we come from
But we know pleasure is not that simple
Very little fruit is forbidden
Sometimes we wobble, sometimes we're strong
But you know evil is an exact science
Being carefully correctly wrong
Priests and cannibals, prehistoric animals
Everybody happy as the dead come home
Big black nemesis, parthenogenesis
No one move a muscle as the dead come home
We feel like Greeks, we feel like Romans
Centaurs and monkeys just cluster round us
We drink elixirs that we refine
From the juices of the dying
We are no monsters, we're moral people
And yet we have the strength to do this
This is the splendour of our acheivement
Call in the airstrike with a poison kiss
How bad it gets you can't imagine
The burning wakes, the breath of reptiles
God is not mocked, he knows our business
Karma could take us at any moment
Cover him up I think we're finished
You know it's never been so exotic
But I don't know my dreams are visions
We could still end up with the great big fishes
compositores: Barry William Andrews, Carl Marsh, David Allen, Martyn Barker
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