We Call Upon The Author Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds

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What we once thought we had, we didn't
And what we have now will never be that way again
So we call upon the author to explain

Our myxomatoid kids spraddle the streets
We've shunned them from the greasy grind
The poor little things, they look so sad and old
As they mount us from behind
I ask them to desist and to refrain!
And then we call upon the author to explain

Well, rosary clutched in his hand
He died with tubes up his nose
And a cabal of angels with finger cymbals
Chanted his name in code
We shook our fists at the punishing rain
And we called upon the author to explain

He said, everything is messed up round here
Everything is banal and jejune
There's a planetary conspiracy against the likes of you and me
In this idiot constituency of the moon
Well, he knew exactly who to blame!
And we call upon the author to explain

Prolix! Prolix!
Nothing a pair of scissors can't fix