(Our Alien) Millenium
We gather in the mud to get our allowance
Sometimes we just don't mind about the wicked shades of our goals
Drowning our eyes in the lens of a camera
And scanning the objects with our voices tired to work
The letter you wrote me hasn't arrived yet
So I'm pledging my brains to the pages of a scary dada poem
Your favourite shirt of mine left in the launderette
It won't be worn the day of your return
You know
I poured on a carpet
All your fears
And tried to keep some certainty for all our years
Our alien millenium..a thousand terms
Our alien millenium..we're sorting out a thousand terms