West Ryder Silver Bullet

Then I went down into the basement Where my friend the maniac Busies himself with his electronic graffiti Finally his language touches me Because he talks to that part of us Which insists on drawing profiles on prison walls In that moment Poetry will be made by everyone And there will be emus in the zone Mist covers the ground In the city Engine rumbles quiet As we drift by I wish you could see it Through my crooked eye Oh your beauty Plays me just like a guitar string (it's the truth) I want your touch Oh, how I want you far too much She's my baby He's my baby Days drift into one It's so pretty Travelling wilbury's, police photofits And this stolen car Is loaded with junk It's so dirty He'll be the death of me But that's okay I want your touch Oh how I want you far too much She's my baby He's my baby