The Tramps Of Taro Sound

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