The Bay Tree
My soul is not mine to barter or sell,
But whatever it is I honest can't tell.
A sense of right and what's wrong, perhaps;
Or simply a gut ache that doesn't get well.
So like some kind of idiot, lost in the fog,
I blunder blindly from post to post.
Just like a bingo ball, mixed up in a bag;
That last puff of smoke from the last drag.
Chorus
If I had faith enough to set myself free
I'd dance buck naked around my bay tree
With pains in my body and aches in my bones
I watch my life in video,
Feeling like a one hit wonder, burnt slice of toast,
Going around in circles down the plug hole