From the window of our
honeymoon,
the night looks a mite
bizarre
They’re burning us in
effigy
and smoke’s blotting out
the stars
They’re torturing our
servants
by the light of an armoured
car
Please don’t ask if it’s
the end of the line –
you know I could never see
that far
Tonight I’d rather look at
you,
How beautiful you are.
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