None of the Above

none of the above could describe your feeling
so tick the box below where it says "not specified"
and close the door with a bang so maybe they'll notice
that you've just gone home or gone fishing or died.
i'll meet you in the back of the secret garden,
that's where the carnivores eat kittens all day,
you painted the walls dark green to pretend
that the jungle in fact is just a stone's throw away.

you still want that house
with the slate roof and the tiled floor
and the golden door mat on the top of the hill
and a flock of gentle crows to circle the neighbourhood
and come back for dinner on the windowsill.
you can sell your hair and sell your blood and disguise all the scars on your tongue
but all naked and sewn up you still cannot go back to where you really came from.

parties are never as wild as on the photographs
and sex ain't as boring as a on pay tv
and i guess war is a million times more frightening
than what most people want to make us believe
but you only got a shoe box with a hole in it
and i'll have to make up the evening news
and i'll make an origami remote control
to make you believe you've got the right to choose.