A Person from Porlock

There is a house of pleasure with a Dragon in the Hall
On sixteen miles of fertile land enclosed within a wall
Adrift in clouds of opium reflected in a stream
A man from Porlock came to call and wiped away your dream

Mr Schubert's symphony we call it number eight
Was dealt a heavy beating by the fickle hand of fate
A break in concentration and the nasty French Disease
What would number forty seven say to number three?

You can't always finish what you started
You can't always make it to the end
A stone gets thrown into the pool and on reflection who can see the fool?

Like all tomorrow's parties this one's speeding to an end
You talked for half an hour and you thought you'd made a friend
The enemy of promise is a beast of chase and game
Drinking from a pleasant fountain, failed to catch her name



Credits
Writer(s): Emperor Penguin
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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