I just remember the day when I travelled to the smaller island
They ferry so full of lunatics... in a disco, in a grotto.
I was riving in extremes and ecstasy
In the early morning hours, I stole a hunter's jeep
He was a birdshooter and I stole his gun, so I drove to mushroomrock to shoot some birds
When I walked down to the sea I saw a cliffhanger mistook him for a bird shot him four times
He was falling into the sea
I felt like a bloody film giggling and throwing the gun into the sun
Back on the ferry, I drank tons of water to clear my head, flew back
And home north
End of story. I hope it wasn't true. I still sing "I don't like Sundays!"
And in honour of memory I can't sleep,
Still feeling like butcher's knife... bad feelings eat me daily
Cliffhanger on a bloody sunday!
