Minstrel of the Wasteland
Down in the valley
Where the sun don’t shine
There’s a wasteland minstrel
He’s almost blind
Singing summer girl and drinking toxic wine
There’s a king in his orbit
Who plays with no doubt
But there’s no one left
Who can twist and shout
All the young dudes snorting
Through their gold privileged snouts
And his friends don’t care
For they’ve found some beer
Fighting over rounds
And missing out fear
Waiting for the ferry men
With coins wedged in their eyes
Won’t you sit with me, my darling
Let us sing of love
Wont you call with me for rescue
Hope there’s gods above
I’m the minstrel of the wasteland
The land is washed by the lies of the rich
And the truth that was there Runs down to the ditch
The plastic so fantastic Is spread on the poisoned ground
There are fears, there are tears but still there are beers
The football commentators sound like prophets and seers
And the opium of the masses is tasting really sound
But my friend don’t care for he’s got no hair
Charming all the ladies with his charismatic flair
Rubbing on his belly eating 15 porky pies
Won’t you sit with me, my darling
Let us sing of love
Wont you call with me for rescue
Hope there’s gods above