Poor Fractured Atlas Lyrics - Elvis Costello

He's out in the woods with his squirrel gun 

To try to recapture his anger 

He's screaming some words at the top of his lungs 

Until he begins to feel younger 

But back at his desk in the city we find 

Our trembling punch-drunken fighter 

Who can't find the strength now to punish 

The length of the ribbon in his little typewriter 

Poor fractured Atlas 

Threw himself across the mattress 

Waving his withering pencil as if it were a pirate's cutlass 

I'm almost certain he's trying to increase his burden 

He said, "That's how the child in me planned it 

A woman wouldn't understand it" 

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I believe there was something that I wanted to say 

Before I conclude this epistle 

But you would forgive me for holding my tongue 

'Cause man made the blade and the pistol 

Yes, man made the waterfall and the dam 

To temper his tantrum with magic 

Now you can't be sure of that ten of azure 

Since he punched a hole in the fabric 

Photos 

Poor fractured Atlas 

Threw himself across the mattress 

Waving his withering pencil as if it were a pirate's cutlass 

I'm almost certain he's trying to increase his burden 

He said, "That's how the child in me planned it 

A woman wouldn't understand it"