The Walkabouts

Coming up for air

The Walkabouts


Suckin' alabaster in a ventilator shaft 
Chewin' on surrender because it's cheap and it lasts 
This ain't hell, it's a holding tank 
Where memory and the future draw a big, fat blank 
I know this tunnel leads somewhere 
But it takes mystery and a torch 
And a reason to care 
I know this tunnel leads outside 
Down to the river where the elephants die 

Comin' up 
Up, Up, Up, Up 
Comin' Up for Air 

There is no better story than a man in a hole 
This is where he laid still 
This is how he rolled 
This is how he fed, on the marrow of his bones 
This is where he shuffled 
Playin' doomsday alone 
A suicide miner 
With a depth charge timer 
Rathole lover 
Diggin' deep for a cover 
You suffocate first 
Then you learn how to breathe 
The sweet of the sewer 
Shows you the way to leave 

make room for the cleanup crew 
They're the last to the scene 
and the first to be fooled 
The townsfolk line thick 
Along the riverside 
Lookin' for a place 
to watch the elephants die