The Mutant Lyrics - Singles - Trader Horne

He is a the faker that sits by the river 

Holding winged insects in front of his eyes 

Face of the aged but feared they would wither 

Living their lives, just fearing to die 

Cardboard and leather and synthetic fiber 

Don't cover his body or flutter his mind 

The earth is like Heaven and the water like cider 

He walks on the ground and he flies in the sky 

Monk in the glass house was breaking his fingers 

Doing his penance for someone to see 

The head in the alley was licking his papers 

And thinking, He's thinking he's better than me 

He is but wisdom who looks on the youngster 

Thriving, surviving, contriving but free 

And if in his wanderings, he should pass your doorstep 

Strike up your matches, there's so much to see