J - Crown Of The Valley - Jets To Brazil

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we are the high street service trays

coming to take you away

pasadena 1968

with speed on your breakfast plate

aunt cancer calls them happy pills

they keep her calm and cool until he leaves

the moccasin skin obsession leather thigh

white tennis skirt so high

the eyes of mine are new and kind

but the hair's not grey, it's white

and grandfather's an ascot noose

can't tie the tassels on his shoes

leave me

these are the red-eyed politics

the cocktail revisionists

war room rules: no wives or kids

here men sing the boy in them

the hedge casts heroes late across our lawn

the valley hunt militiamen, all gone

thought we had the lock in '54

now the maid owns the house next door

and what's more

swims in the pool she used to clean

our new king looks like a queen

leave me

oh god stop tearing off the roof

of my experimental bathroom

it's the only thing that's halfway mine

and not for your prying and lying eyes

the empire's melting like ice cream

on the altar of the sun

this skin we've stretched for centuries

it's faded, it's fraying, it's meaningless to me



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