The Tramps of Taro Sound
Sit and watch the wind
Running ships aground.
They give no warning cries,
But they charge no fare
So, I guess it's alright.
Living off the spoils of the war,
I sold my wife and children
For a trench along the shore.
As the ships go down,
No one talks about
The other side of town...
They're handing trophies out to all young things
Who can distract their country for the King,
And keep the vultures occupied.
Over in the reservoir
Another debutante
Is readied for his grand departure.
The Elders of the Last Regime
Watch from the wings
And make sure that every exit's covered.
Then they fill him with slaughterhouse gin
And forty counts of brine
In memory of the Wheezing Ulcers.
As he sails into the sound,
There are no holidays
On the other side of town...
After we've had our fun
And the spoils are long gone,
Can't shake the phlegm of paranoia.
The wind rails and screams
As we try to keep our ship
Together at the seams.
But it soon disintegrates
And we see their throbbing eyes
Watching from the banks.
They gave no warning cries,
But they charged no fare -
So, I guess it's alright