Bombed

Love there are flowers hanging in the vine So high you cannot see Now my mind must go on holiday, torn from it's hook, a broken valentine I see the smoke from a revolver, will I get hit, I hardly care When I'm bombed I stretch like bubblegum And look too long straight at the morning sun Love there are flowers along the avenue, all things perfectly in place I build a shrine I set a monument Because you're fire Because you're a fire escape --- Bombed - Mark Lanegan