dead_finks_don't_talk brian eno Oh cheeky cheeky Oh naughty sneaky You're so perceptive And I wonder how you knew. But dead finks don't walk too well (oh no) A bad sense of direction (oh no) And so they stumble round in threes (oh no) Such a strange collection. Oh, you headless chicken Can those poor teeth take so much kicking? You're always so charming As you make your way up here. And dead finks don't dress too well No discrimination To be a zombie all the time Requires such dedication. "Oh please sir, will you let it go by, 'Cos I failed both tests with my legs both tied In my place the stuff is all there I've been ever so sad for a very long time. My my, they wanted the works: Can you this? and that? I never got a letter back More fool me, bless my soul More fool me, bless my soul." Oh perfect masters They thrive on disasters They all look so harmless Till they find their way up here. But dead finks don't talk too well They've got a shaky sense of diction It's not so much a living hell It's just a dying fiction. 060118 ... jane brian_eno 060118 ... z here come the warm jets 060118 ... randomly recent ! 081105 what's it to you? who go blather from