Mazda

Our boy is finally coming home The city of lights gets your foot in the door 4:42 p.m., we stood, the asphalt Staring up as an eight tonne Jesus rode through a greying Mazda Got me thinking of Naza's big work by crushing tins for the recycling With a bone that shook the deck Flat cans jingle into the yellow topped wheelie-bin Police stood around in raincoats So fine, it's almost mist The defogging is fucked And we're all getting old That was plain as the barely rain As the barely rain