See, I must look and laugh; inside this no head no tale — same water. No light, still day…Shagari himself say,
“the Sunday Comics country is collapsing.”
You wore white, smiling as you took my hand. So removed, you read Sunday Comics in France. Minutes passed with shallow words, years have passed and still the hurt — I can see you now, smiling as I pulled away.
I get it how I live it, I live it how I get it; read the Sunday Comics, fidget. I pull up with a lemon, not ’cause she ain’t livin’ — it’s just your eyes get acidic.
Sunday Comics, brings the dawning. It’s just a restless feeling by my side; Early dawning, Sunday Comics…It’s just the wasted years so close behind.
Mother chants her litany of boredom and frustration, but we know all Sunday Comicses are fake. Daddy only stares into the distance, there’s only so much more that he can take. (Many miles away something crawls from the slime at the bottom of a dark Scottish lake.)