There will be no further comment   No defiant fist will lift   These capitulating eyes will lower   Feet will shift and   To the lone thoughtful orator   We will give the shortest shrift   And let the soundbites eat the heart out   Of these lives that are a gift      We will settle, we will settle   For the bottom-line, for less   And we'll water ourselves down into the mess      A crow on every clock tower   A rook on every steeple   Shadows without shadows   Shoulders hunched toward the wind      A thick mist kisses office blocks   I look for other people   In that cold expanse of windows   Do they see me looking in?      In the dead hour   Pre-train and post-night bus   Will we let the morning papers suck the life out of us?      But could you try, when I die   To paint my shadow on the wall   And when these organs are defeated   Give the doctor free-for-all   Oh cut me out, cut me up   Little bits of me live on   In drops of paint upon a wall, in lines of song   A line in a song      Filthy streets cut dirty scars   Through gutless architecture   And the dead hour shift is fluoro, lit so sickeningly bright   Circles of the air, condensed are softening the coaster   Dust is just dead skin and hair   Leave your chair, take back your life   You see the buildings have begun to catch the light      Could you try, when I die   To paint my shadow on the wall   And when these organs are defeated   Give the doctors free-for-all   Oh cut me out, cut me up   Little bits of me live on   I can feel someone else's breath filling my lungs      Oh cut me out, cut me up   Little bits of me live on   My heart in someone else's chest, these lines in song   A line in a song