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Dead Language Blues

Based on a book based on his life

A song I was hired to write

I stole every line and plot device

From his journal that I read at night

The characters were all stiff robotic whores

But there was one intriguing role

The slick missionary with a penchant for stealing and

Hypnotising the

Girls with boys' names and boys with girls' frames

So I set to work with my blueprint

And the aim of a dead poet's pen

I filled my prescription and thenA cold war, bible like tyrant was calling my name

He told me needed someone to detail each moment

His history, the ink started flowing

He first took drugs in '84

But he's never been the same as before

It's the fault of the suburbs, prog rock and his mum

She still calls him all the time

To see if he's failing 'cause nothing keeps it's shape when

Tempted each day

By European ways, speed freaks and strays

It's so hard to say

If nature has more than a sick sense of humourA cold war bible black tyrant was taking my hand

He told me he needed someone to proof read each sentence

A dead language, the ink started flowingHe told me it felt like a whirlwind of heat

Just east of Juarez, a border town soiree

He knew it before he could breathe

The air was filled with the smell of baby's breath

Stale sex and baby's breath

It feels like he's failing, 'cause nothing keeps its shape

When tempted each day

By heartfelt inscriptions and sinking convictionsA cold war bible black tyrant was calling my name

He told me he needed someone to detail each moment

His history, the ink started flowing

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