| Lyrics |
Mormon Tabernacle screaming round the bend:
Your ship is coming in,your ship is coming in.
And all the economic forecast predict:
My ship is coming in,my ship is coming in. (
Tongues)
Insects and bugs, arachnids and slugs:
Crawling down my leg,crawling down my leg.
All the disregarded blood sausage saints:
Pawing out for change,pawing out for change. (
Tongues)
Leather briefcase, corporate waves:
They're packing in the train.
But I can part the waves,right down my spine.
They're ozing down my spine.
It's like a tongue of fire,I've got a tongue of fire. (
Tongues)I make the soup - a thick gravey soup.
Come and get your spoons,I'm a world prophet.
Look at my shoes. (I've got size 12 shoes)I've only got half a foot. (
Prophets don't fear the bottle)
Walking over puddles,I'm a world prophet.I make the soup - a thick gravey soup.
Come and get your spoons,I'm a world prophet.
Put on your suits,your dark navy suits.
Get back into the streets,and make a profit - a false profit.
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