Borrowed grapes from stores of gold
Put plastic back where metal's sold
Men in quarries connect their bomb
One two three, a new Saigon


Check the bottle, is it full?
Have you found which pin to pull?
Boys in shirts get dirty hands
Smoke kills seagulls on the sands

They have pages, they take ages
To read and to learn
They're heavy to carry and easy to burn
Volumes have secrets
Take them on holiday
Book them a room, save them a moment, swallow their swoon

Pretty things all in a row
Flowers who can't seem to grow
Finding the pearls, then finding the blood
And finding the water is wood

The something I wanted has just flown by
It looked at me sideways and told me to try
I hope it's a message from someone obscure
I hope it's the man next door