Flytipping

We'll play on the road

Flytipping, careful as you go

And we'll watch as the lorries

Transport their precious loads

With a bag in our hands

Flytipping, me and my patient man

Just by the hard shoulder

This few who've understood

What is my name, what is yours?

Do we own these things, what has it all been for?

Flytipping on the road of course

What is yours and what is us?

Do we fool ourselves with all those pretty words?

Flytipping on the road with her

And I'll take you to the Fir trees

As the paper drifts like falling snow

Under the trees

Two hunters looking for ivory

Discard their possessions

Cast them to the breeze

'Cause the worms in the ground

And the crows as they circle round

Don't need these things to cling to

For a homestead playground

What is my name, what is yours?

Do we own these things, what has it all been for?

Flytipping on the road of course

Shiny things that turn into rust

So we show ourselves with all this pretty stuff

Flytipping feels like just enough

And I'll take you to the verges

By the nettles, by the roundabout

And I'll pick you wild roses

In the tunnels like the underpass