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• Artiste: Tiny Ruins
• Titre: Priest With Balloons
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Not regular party size; Waves crash on either side. He's wearing polypropylene, Clutching at straws, holding onto string. What was he looking for - Truth, or was it Heaven? Or did he just want to go out with a bang, So to speak? He's put his helmet on, Steps out, floats on into the sky, Goodbye! It's funny, but I can understand why: I want to live where the traffic controllers Are ballet dancers, And billboards painted over with colours; Where unkindness is fined In numbers of roses, And nobody feels like taking the commons, Nobody feels like taking the commons. While some were meant for sea, in tug-boats 'Round the shore's knee, (Milling with the sand, and always coming back to land), For others, up above Is all they care to think of, Up there with the birds and clouds, and Words don't follow. There are times when I sit down to tea, Some well-meaning companion will ask me, How's it going with everything? Quite nicely, but: I want to live where the traffic controllers are Ballet dancers, And billboards painted over with colours; Where unkindness is fined In numbers of roses, And nobody feels like taking the commons, Nobody feels like taking the commons, Nobody feels like taking the commons. 'Though time has soldiered on, I still think upon him; Waging with the sky, he's crying Goodbye! What was he looking for - Truth, or was it Heaven? Or did he just want to go out with a bang, So to speak?