Caravan - Jam Baxter

Kicked out the caravan, somewhere left of everywhere

Someone told me all my dead relatives were buried there

You will never see me ever sitting still in any chair

Running round the desert picking thorns from my derriere

Midnight, sand dunes, space flight, trashed rooms

Frog spawn, jack moves, silk tongue, rat suits

All of the above have played a part in my awakening

And peppered every dream inside this severed head I’m cradling

I left after dark, sped past the guards, handed em a shovel yellin' «X marks the path»

One too many nights at a chess-masters yard

Where a jeweler and a thief split the rent half and half

Read between the stretch marks and scars little wench

Them two names within a heart carved in a bench aren’t ours

I said it with impeccable mystique as I hot-wired a 747 with my teeth

Last week the memories are patchy the word is that I left a bleeding segment of

myself in every taxi

And crawled out the last as a disembodied fist

Still swinging, still missing, still pissed

It was like this.

(Hook)

Kicked out the caravan, somewhere left of everywhere

Someone told me all my dead relatives were buried there

You will never see me ever sitting still in any chair

Running round the desert picking thorns from my derriere

I found a creepy little leaflet in a thick greasy mess

It said how to skip town in just 6 easy steps

Roll a zoot, spark it

Run screaming like a harlot with a bright red target on your chest

Then just head west, dodge bullets like a G

While the maggots from your back, back-flip into the sea

I ripped it into bits, sounds gash, poured a shot and stood back

To watch the world burn, surveying the debris

Damn, what a huge fuckin' mess, the crews unimpressed

There’s bare screaming kids and just a few muzzles left

I was running on a full tank of booze blood and sweat

They were broom covered goons with a few butters skets

So strap a new saddle to this old swollen pig

And I’ll show you what a cold shoulder is in 5 seconds

Bought em all a chrysalis and crawled aboard a missile ship and taught em all

To never talk shit in my presence

(Hook)

Kicked out the caravan, somewhere left of everywhere

Someone told me all my dead relatives were buried there

You will never see me ever sitting still in any chair

Running round the desert picking thorns from my derriere

Smash and grab, pack a bag, boot

I’ll be halfway to Paris, sat strapping that zoot

By the time you finished asking that question

You can have this chat with your reflection

Smash and grab, pack a bag, boot

I’ll be dead in Calcutta in a tattered black suit

By the time you finished asking that question

You can have this chat with your reflection