The Crimea

Out Of Africa

The Crimea


I struggle to think of a beastier beast 
than the beast I became 
Gone to the pub in pyjamas and slippers again 
Driven only by the Herculean desire 
To fill my body with anything 
that helps me forget it's a body in the first place 
Gone to the pub in pyjamas and slippers again 

Humankind, never stood a chance 
Too scared to leave the house 
Far from the madding crowd 
Gonna be a fatcamp hero now 
So began, the chronicles of man 
This weak distorted thing 
Evil and all that jazz 
Came out of Africa 

Follow the Yellow Brick Road wherever 
the damn thing goes 
Winter just hangs around, 
like a smoker's cough of sixty years 
Stumbling through a no-frills life with a chip 
on my shoulder the size of an iceberg 
Winter just hangs around like a smoker's 
cough of sixty years 

Human Kind, never stood a chance 
Too scared to leave the house 
Far from the madding crowd 
Gonna be a fatcamp hero now 
So began, the chronicles of man 
This weak distorted thing 
Evil and all that jazz 
Came out of Africa 

Does winter just hang around 
Like a smoker's cough of sixty years 
We go where the bad people go 
Gonna be a fatcamp hero now 
So began, the chronicles of man 
This weak distorted thing 
Evil and all that jazz 
Came out of Africa