Split

Without further ado (or a don't)

Allow me to impose myself upon you

I'm El Deludo

Oscar De La Soundtrack

Mr. Moss Side Gory

From Rusholme, with blood

That's me, H. P.

Harry Pendulum, the last of the big-time swingers

I'm livin' off a theme

The cold war reality

Takes the subtle shape of

Bridges and houses and pitches and ditches and vampires and witches an itch in my britches requiring some stitches and central control says that I gotta go I can't hide in the snow I stand down in the dark and I passed as a master that thinks a lot faster than I give him credit which raises my limit I'd rather not split it but truth in my soul is the notion that I'm gonna SPLIT!

But look

Over there

What light through yonder windscreen breaks

Steering the wheels of this tired old jalopy

Onward and upward into desire

It's simply majestic and my English Breakfasts

slip through my fingers like slivers of ice

cooling my burnt out brow-beaten brow

To breathe again sweet river

Sparkling shades of chestnut burnished copper and jade

And in the moonlight once you've cast your shadow aside

Decide you're the one you wanted to be!

Question: who did it?

Answer: me.

Shrewdiness abounds

The man with the golden arm...erican excess card

Primo de primo

And splat goes the God damn

Goodbye, cucaracha

See y'around like a Russeau

If you feel with blind hue

Fivers and divers and wheelers and dealers my baby says maybe so maybe soleil be and gives me a look I give me a left hook follow through with a right that has plenty of bite and the day is a cinch though I'm tempted to flinch with the thought that I may or in no better way and the concrete and clay that I pound from the grey disappears from my view with the notion that I'm gonna SPLIT!

And all of Ethiopia awaits for me!

But I don't got a passport

So I guess it's that time that we gotta

Pass the port

Oh, please, do forgive me, JFT

I mean uh... pass the port of Saints

And take a good long look

Into my face

What d'you make?

Yeah that's right

I'm of mixed race

No, no, no, y'know, I don't mean like ah an Englishman, a Scotsman and a Negro and a Russian all ah competing against each other in some significant track and field event

But then again...

And this is where things really come into play

An extremely important part of the process, you see

If all of those guys ain't on the same team, or if uh, one of them, like you know

Even just one of them makes a dumb pass

Then that's me

Split

Completely undone

Half of me one

And half of me none

No longer whole

Just one gaping hole

Shot right through to my shotten-through soul

Oh God, perish the thoughts

'Cause next thing you know, and this is like uh, really where it is

It's just like Meinl said

There's a light at the end of the tunnel

And when you see it, it means

That you're dead - POP!