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Jam Baxter
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Caravan
Kicked out the caravan, somewhere left of everywhere
Someone told me all my dead relatives were buried there
You will never see me ever sitting still in any chair
Running round the desert picking thorns from my derriere
Midnight, sand dunes, space flight, trashed rooms
Frog spawn, jack moves, silk tongue, rat suits
All of the above have played a part in my awakening
And peppered every dream inside this severed head I'm cradling
I left after dark, sped past the guards, handed em a shovel yellin' 'X marks the path'
One too many nights at a chess-masters yard
Where a jeweler and a thief split the rent half and half
Read between the stretch marks and scars little wench
Them two names within a heart carved in a bench aren't ours
I said it with impeccable mystique as I hot-wired a 747 with my teeth
Last week the memories are patchy the word is I left a bleeding segment of myself in every taxi
And crawled out the last as a disembodied fist
Still swinging, still missing, still pissed
It was like this.
Kicked out the caravan, somewhere left of everywhere
Someone told me all my dead relatives were buried there
You will never see me ever sitting still in any chair
Running round the desert picking thorns from my derriere
I found a creepy little leaflet in a thick greasy mess
It said how to skip town in just 6 easy steps
Roll a zoot, spark it
Run screaming like a harlot with a bright red target on your chest
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Then just head west, dodge bullets like a G
While the maggots from your back, back-flip into the sea
I ripped it into bits, sounds gash, poured a shot and stood back
To watch the world burn, surveying the debris
Damn, what a huge fuckin' mess, the crews unimpressed
There's bare screaming kids and just a few muzzles left
I was running on a full tank of booze blood and sweat
They were broom covered goons with a few butters skets
So strap a new saddle to this old swollen pig
And I'll show you what a cold shoulder is in 5 seconds
Bought em all a chrysalis and crawled aboard a missile ship and taught em all
To never talk shit in my presence
Kicked out the caravan, somewhere left of everywhere
Someone told me all my dead relatives were buried there
You will never see me ever sitting still in any chair
Running round the desert picking thorns from my derriere
Smash and grab, pack a bag, boot
I'll be halfway to Paris, sat strapping that zoot
By the time you finished asking that question
You can have this chat with your reflection
Smash and grab, pack a bag, boot
I'll be dead in Calcutta in a tattered black suit
By the time you finished asking that question
You can have this chat with your reflection
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