Sank into their calculations and snorted on a stench
A bare arithmetic
Looked for the boy who was hanging his head low
More trophies than ideas
To follow their pretence
With a scowl in his pocket and a smile on his face
He followed with obidience
And fell in the Nettles
Afterwards those spikey whispers
And he brought his own rope
And skipped the bits they loathed
Didn't scramble to find a dock leaf and capture back our hope
To advice his mind had closed
He lost all of his footholes
And with a scowl in his pocket and a smile on his face
He followed with obidience
And fell in the Nettles,
Fell in the Nettles,
Fell in the Nettles
He was a toothpick
And the garlic and the cinder upon the path
Failed to blunt or hinder, a slow collapse
And clinging to the doorframe he was dragged
Off to a reminder of where he had been
And with a smile in his pocket
And a scowl on his face
There was nowhere to flee
So sat content in the Nettles
