Ramblin', where to begin?. I taste the summer on your peppery skin. Been saved, the warmer the waves. I felt us slip into a watery grave. . My girl, linen and curls.
When we arrive, sons and daughters. We'll make our homes on the water. We'll build our walls of aluminum. We'll fill our mouths with cinnamon now. . These currents pull us across the border.
The Shankill Butchers ride tonight. You better shut your windows tight. They're sharpening their cleavers and their knives. And taking all their whiskey by the pint.