For Whom The Belly Tolls
Los Campesinos!
May I have a moment, please, before the guillotine
To lament on her wet hair?
Tousled over her left shoulder
Wearing a Corfu t-shirt she took as her nightwear
I could slip on my own salt sobs
Seeking the cold embrace of the fridge freezer aisle
Catwalk into the dog pound, now with my flesh wounds
Dressed to spring-summer style
For whom the belly tolls
For who the tap drips dry and the bath water runs cold
For whom the belly tolls
For who all time ticks by until one joke becomes old
There is beauty in the world
I have been told by people I've nothing but trust in
Piled up with the cotton buds, among the toothpicks
Inside the dark of the dustbin
Waited outside of Jersey Boys for what seemed like a year
A life lived in the vestibule
Scout yourself as a one-man team
You're a one-club man denied a testimonial
(No knot in the waistband)
Persuade me to give up and leave quietly
(No reason to grandstand)
File me alongside the obscene
It's 7:20, Monday morning
I look to the man with no suit for a warning
If open to reason/collusion
May the way that I go be regrettable, gruesome
In exchange for one thing: I beg do not take me today
Babbling: Please, let me stay
For whom the belly tolls
For who the tap drips dry and the bath water runs cold
For whom the belly tolls
For who all time ticks by until one joke becomes old
For whom the belly tolls
For who the tap drips dry and the bath water runs cold
For whom the belly tolls
For whom the belly tolls