The Bench And The Fetch

Yet the barcodes click on, there's a face on our head
Written in bars and foretold in the stars
Discussed in the bars, whilst the drunks are softly singing
That the light has left them all

Set at the bar, and the bench, and the fetch
What was the cause of your mother's death?
Probably no, or maybe, or yes
What is the name of the face on your wall?
Possibly no, and probably yes
Were you tall on your hands, do you like their hair golden?
Possibly no, and probably yes
Possibly lost and mistaken your name
Nihil your gain and probably lost
You threw up flowers, I have heard

But the light is leaving you all
Probably maybe, certainly no
Is your face on the Moon, are you barren or halt?
Probably nothing, probably no
Have you noticed the light is leaving you all?
Probably possibly, certainly yes

The birds are sweetly singing
The birds are sweetly singing
Electric your life, and electric your death
Electric the light, and electric the night
Electric the Moon, electric the Sun
Electric the mother, electric the father
And the light has left them all
Whilst the birds were sweetly singing
The light has left them all
The birds are sadly singing