Tekst:
Swingin Utters Circular Highway

Off all the blessed intervals that defined ourselves as one I may remember only the last, as it's the interval you won I've thought about it and I just

You can't believe your children you can't believe your wife, you can't take the credit fucking up your life. some people don't believe me when I tell

Jakie Jab is looking fab. He's got treble and a bass and a big tab. He's got oil in his hair from Arab and when he falls down, he dalls smack dab. Hey

The last of the daydreamers have walked out the open door avoiding any problems they might've had with the social law well, I remember Tuesday and every

Pick up the lines between your eyes grow up and get yourself to feeling younger longer for the sunshine waiting for an early rise won't it just shame

when the ballroom splendor and the glitzy glamor boys fall flat like cheap champagne, when the swirl of excitement and the sparkling smiles have fled

Well, you don't really know what you wanna do except to spend some time just being you but the game's unfair and the stakes are high what with the threat

Slow motion cigarettes hang from your sweaty lips five bottles of stale, pissy ale stumble to your pale wrists thin man with unkept hair clean shave,

I've said, and once too often, some things I'll never say again In streams of thoughts unbroken I fish for a few good men Sundays and holidays and twelve