Split

Without further ado (or a don't) Allow me to impose myself upon you I'm El Deludo Oscar De La Soundtrack Mr. Moss Side Gory From Rusholme, with blood That's me, H. P. Harry Pendulum, the last of the big-time swingers I'm livin' off a theme The cold war reality Takes the subtle shape of Bridges and houses and pitches and ditches and vampires and witches an itch in my britches requiring some stitches and central control says that I gotta go I can't hide in the snow I stand down in the dark and I passed as a master that thinks a lot faster than I give him credit which raises my limit I'd rather not split it but truth in my soul is the notion that I'm gonna SPLIT! But look Over there What light through yonder windscreen breaks Steering the wheels of this tired old jalopy Onward and upward into desire It's simply majestic and my English Breakfasts Slip through my fingers like slivers of ice Cooling my burnt out brow-beaten brow To breathe again sweet river Sparkling shades of chestnut burnished copper and jade And in the moonlight once you've cast your shadow aside Decide you're the one you wanted to be! Question: who did it? Answer: me. Shrewdiness abounds The man with the golden arm... erican excess card Primo de primo And splat goes the God damn Goodbye, cucaracha See y'around like a Russeau If you feel with blind hue Fivers and divers and wheelers and dealers my baby says maybe so maybe soleil be and gives me a look I give me a left hook follow through with a right that has plenty of bite and the day is a cinch though I'm tempted to flinch with the thought that I may or in no better way and the concrete and clay that I pound from the grey disappears from my view with the notion that I'm gonna SPLIT! And all of Ethiopia awaits for me! But I don't got a passport So I guess it's that time that we gotta Pass the port Oh, please, do forgive me, JFT I mean uh... pass the port of Saints And take a good long look Into my face What d'you make? Yeah that's right I'm of mixed race No, no, no, y'know, I don't mean like ah an Englishman, a Scotsman and a Negro and a Russian all ah competing against each other in some significant track and field event But then again... And this is where things really come into play An extremely important part of the process, you see If all of those guys ain't on the same team, or if uh, one of them, like you know Even just one of them makes a dumb pass Then that's me Split Completely undone Half of me one And half of me none No longer whole Just one gaping hole Shot right through to my shotten-through soul Oh God, perish the thoughts 'Cause next thing you know, and this is like uh, really where it is It's just like Meinl said There's a light at the end of the tunnel And when you see it, it means That you're dead - POP!