(Don McGlashan) In my room I can keep everything within reach All the switches and fittings are new I have tapped on the walls and I've paced out the
(Don McGlashan) I never thought that it would come to this To watch myself leaving you behind But you went to great lengths to clear my way And like this
(Don McGlashan) Are these the hands of a man? I suppose so I recall them shaking the hands of other men Now all they seem to do is write in this log book
(Don McGlashan) On a West Coast station there was a US Congressman, he was a Guest on a talk show on the Subject of language And he said "I'm a great
Esther's been reading books She's changed the way that she talks And the way that she looks Her coffee is black now And so are her clothes She's shaved
(David Long) [Instrumental]
Frank bought a heater An electric heater The elements were made of wire and clay He reached out to touch and he heard a voice say And he heard it say "
There's a river flowing up into the sky To the sky, to the sky There are trees with human heads parading by Sailing by, sailing by And the hands of giants
(Don McGlashan) There's trouble with you And I'm going under again I'm going under again Seems like this night won't end There's trouble with you And
It's been going on so long now Since I introduced you To people who are getting used Or else they're getting used to You You can charm the birds out
(Alan Gregg) I wish I was in Wellington, the weather's not so good The wind it cuts right through you and it rains more than it should But I'd be there
(Don McGlashan) You wake up You've been dreaming Words fly round your head and you write them down Get yourself a drink All around you waters rise You
(Don McGlashan) The plane touches down The lounge fills up again With retired couples from the midwestern USA They blink in the foreign light And admire
(Don McGlashan) It's a big flat land And it's right next door Strong strong coffee Pimps and whores The heat comes down Like a hundred suns Girls with
get a drink here Something like the picture on the poster I saw a few miles back A green can on a nest of ice Like the egg of some Antarctic bird And
(Don McGlashan) Joey said that you'd been calling I guess that means we're through our falling out, April But don't begrudge my being wary Of the hatchet
(Don McGlashan) At the high tide line Driftwood and shells That's where she said we could leave our clothes Where the moonlight dissolves in the wet sand
Full fathom five Someday I'll lie Singing songs that come From dead men's tongues Anchor me, anchor me As the compass turns And the glass it falls Where
