The fire in the belly is essential, otherwise you become Michael Buble - famous and meaningless.
Young bones groan And the rocks below say, "Throw your white body down!" But I'm going to meet the one I love At last
This world, I am afraid, is designed for crashing bores.
God, come down, if you're really there - Well, you're the one who claims to care!
Pass the pub that wrecks your body And the church, all they want is your money
Now this might disturb you, but I find I'm OK by myself; and I don't need you or your benevolence to make sense.