Grottoes

The ring in the air

Driving you spare

Is a broken loom

It’s a windowless showroom 

Keep your nose to the ground 

Like an old bassett hound

Sabre tail in your wake

Pulses make fleet

Through the cracks in the concrete

How will they land?

Well that’s up to the stagehand

But the night here it burns like acid rain

We make our mark in our arches and grottoes 

Keeping an eye on the scene and the edge of it keen

We can figure the keepers and let-gos

Keep your nose to the ground 

Like an old bassett hound

Pack spread out in your wake

On the street there’s a hush

As we wait for the goldrush

The first glint in the gutters

Is a set of bolt-cutters

But the night here it burns like acid rain

We make our mark in our arches and grottoes 

Keeping an eye on the scene and the edge of it keen

We can figure the keepers and let-gos