Alba s touto skladbou:
Armchair apocrypha,
The finches and sparrows build nests in my chimney
With remains of small flightless birds that you failed to protect
But their yoke isn't easy, in fact it's a drag
As they're blowing through cornfields and mountains of rags
All over the suburbs, across the great lawns
And they're crop-dusting gardens all over this town
But nobody cares when it gets in their hair
It gets in their lungs as it floats through the air
It gets in the food that they buy and prepare
But nobody cares when it gets in their hair
Across the great chasms and schisms
And the sudden (m)aneurysms
Where the black ink will drip across the crespice of your eye
And your teeth are worth more than you can spare
Oh don't tell me that it just isn't fair
Don't speak about the cycles of life
'cause your thoughts are so soft
I could cut 'em with a spork or a bride's knife
And the wine made our minds too loose
Such a reckless choice of words
And you tell me that I'm too abstruse
I just thought I was a kind of bird
I said,
I just stood there not saying a word
Not saying a word
