The sun is shining slowly, the birds are flying so low
Honey you’re my Sunday Comics, so pay me what you owe me
The return: Omar Willey resumes his column on anonymous photography with a digression into the land of color.
Solo voy con mi pena, sola va mi condena — correr es mi destino, por no llevar papel. Perdido en el corazón de la grande Babylon; me dicen los Sunday Comics: Yo soy el quiebra ley.
The trail ahead is dark and unsound, but I’m lapping it up like a greedy hound. Free at last of the city sounds, free at last to put my foot right down…Something out there is calling me, beckoning me with urgency; Comics, Comics, Sunday Comics.
You know it means no mercy, they caught him with a gun. No need for Sunday Comics, goodbye to the Brixton sun…You can crush us, you can bruise us, but you’ll have to answer to, the Sunday Comics.