The Bench and the Fetch

Yet the barcodes click on, there's a face on our head

Written in bars and foretold in the stars

Discussed in the bars, whilst the drunks are softly singing

That the light has left them all

Set at the bar, and the bench, and the fetch

What was the cause of your mother's death?

Probably no, or maybe, or yes

What is the name of the face on your wall?

Possibly no, and probably yes

Were you tall on your hands, do you like their hair golden?

Possibly no, and probably yes

Possibly lost and mistaken your name

Nihil your gain and probably lost

You threw up flowers, I have heard

But the light is leaving you all

Probably maybe, certainly no

Is your face on the Moon, are you barren or halt?

Probably nothing, probably no

Have you noticed the light is leaving you all?

Probably possibly, certainly yes

The birds are sweetly singing

The birds are sweetly singing

Electric your life, and electric your death

Electric the light, and electric the night

Electric the Moon, electric the Sun

Electric the mother, electric the father

And the light has left them all

Whilst the birds were sweetly singing

The light has left them all

The birds are sadly singing