Paul's Tomb

Revitalization has become the pitfalls of the lame,
As if I was the wind, pirouetting between the rain,
I'm going to have to creep slowly if I'm going to crawl down to Paul's Tomb
Because he will never ever break on through
And I will never break on through
And the captain cries "Transgressor" in his mega-phone is what he do,
And we're just doing what we do,
Oh, Donna, Donna, I am on a
Aero-plane to the tepid Bahamas,

Oh the sun is a cold and pale horizon,
And it knows not the rays that it bequeaths unto the dying,
Look at the stains and the rips in his white chain-mail,
He has slipped from the precipices of his dusty campaign trail,
And the company that rides at dawn does so in great fake mock-peril,
As they thread their way onto the misery of Christ's wooden nail.
Do you or don't you need a band-shell to scale?
"I am the new man, I am the new man," as he yelled, as he bailed.

Oh, I won't stand for insurrection against our one monarch,
See Holy kings, and Richard,
you're covered in the red red gore of your own devising,
And I won't stand for insurrection against our one monarch,
When you're hitching a ride with the SENSITIVE GIRLS!

I'm gonna ride on their payrolls.

And the captain cries to his son: "Son, I bequeath you no gold in these hills."
And the captain cries to his wife: "Wife, I bequeath you no son in these hills."
And they move from visionary concert to visionary concert,
questioning the strength of
Their delinquent cousin's pills.
And they move from visionary concert to visionary concert,
questioning the strength of
Their errant cousin's will.

And as a bumble-bee drowns in a golden SEA,
I grow tired of these excesses,

But THERE'S ALWAYS HOPE! HOPE! THERE'S ALWAYS HOPE!
SHACKLE YOUR WRISTS TO THE RAZOR-LIKE RIM!
HOLD ON TO THE EDGE OF THE RAZOR-LIKE RIM!

NO SUICIDE!

Oh Donna don't be bashful don't be shameful,
they ought to show you the respect according to your station...
But: you're never going to break on through.