The dripping tap won’t be turned off by the suits in charge of the world and our futures hanging on by a thread with our heads in the sand.
The dripping tap won’t be turned off by the gods up above us.
Big sky country.
That we never hear from in these times of our dying needs.
A familiar sound ignored.
The compartmentalised thoughts.
In the back corner of the drawer.
That drip, drip on the floor.
Don’t get drowned.
Heed that sound.
Left the tap on.
Swamping out of the sink.
Left the tap on.
Agua flowin’ in.
Left the tap on.
Blankets over my skin.
Left the tap on.
Wish I learnt how to swim.
Left the tap on.
Swamping out of the sink.
Left the tap on.
Agua flowin’ in.
Left the tap on.
Blankets over my skin.
Left the tap on.
Wish I learnt how to swim.
The dripping tap won’t be turned off by the suits in charge of the world and our futures hanging on by a thread with our heads in the sand.
Drip, drip from the tap don’t slip.
Drip, drip from the tap don’t slip on the drip.
Everybody’s on the same orbit.
When they get old and moronic.
Get complacent and get bored.
That drip, drip on the floor.
Don’t get drowned.
Heed that sound.
Left the tap on.
Swamping out of the sink.
Left the tap on.
Agua flowin’ in.
Left the tap on.
Blankets over my skin.
Left the tap on.
Wish I learnt how to swim.
The dripping tap won’t be turned off by the suits in charge of the world and our futures hanging on by a thread with our heads in the sand.
The dripping tap won’t be turned off by the gods up above us.
Big sky country.
That we never hear from in these times of our dying needs.
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