he called you his rosaline
your first part with scripts and scenes
and his lines said all the better
to lie to you with my dear

you loved him in a dialect
that he only barely spoke
your insider said woe betide her
if she thinks she can clear this course

i know that you're not missin
they're not sure that you're dead
i saw you in the layby
where you dumped your favourite dress

you slept in car boots out at the airport
with a ducttape choker round your throat
then you lay down in the wastelands
and dared the briars to grow

i know you wiped your prints off
from the scene of this whole mess
and off the knife held to the heart
of all that you have left

the briars grew at angles towards your neck
as you lay watching the attempts
of the kings snifferdogs and men
and you didn't call out then

he called you his rosaline
your first part with scripts and scenes
and his lines said all the better
to lie to you with my dear

when you woke in the web that rosaline wove
soaked in the rain that settled the dust
they found you and laughed at the shape
that your face made in the mud































gotta radio facelift and a herald education
gotta scandal band aid if you collect up all the tokens
gotta pass the parcel to a higher power
gotta goalpost in a briefcase on the case
and whatever sort of loophole that you want around your neck

the patron saint of mass opinion
saving headlines off of kiosk walls
sponsored out of good abandon
if enough of you can make the call

oh daddy can we twist it
so it looks like they've fixed it
when it was the least of what was wrong
we want a law to fill the loophole up
there are arms that we can get up in
give us trees to line the roads
not a clue what's goin on

gotta woodwork decoy with nothin coming out of it
let it scatter out behind you when ive got you distracted
got cares and airs and a household name
gotta know so cause you're told so
get you on overtime in the driveline
get you a good fool's frequency and ill charm you to default

billboards on roundabouts
with big beards filling little faces
and journalists go on about
whatever sells their evening papers