More than enough
The world is just a sham to the saviour.
Said this friend of mine and I replied, don't do me no favours.
But the bells rang long and clear;
walking around Adelaide in '77.
The king was just about to die and I
worked on this pig farm with the refuse from heaven.
O you The Prince and me, I was Laertes.
That's how we played it then and our roles were small mercies.
And the poets that we thought we were
took blow after blow for decent stuff.
But then when you sang your song,
just to be this way was more than enough.
Did she break your heart, was it already broken ?
Like the thoughts that haunt you still and can't be spoken.
I knew something was eating into you,
though I couldn't say, just what was wrong.
You said madness is this door we pass through,
and you took those steps in your rubber thongs.
You're laughing at the moon in your bedroom.
Get her details, get them down, now she has touched you.
And the poets that we think we are,
will take blow after blow, even if it is bluff.
So then when you sing your song,
just to be this way will be more than enough.
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