Helicopter Of The Holy Ghost

Up the stairs, side by side
Slightly drunk and getting worn
Middle aged travelling friends
Losing count in a foreign bed
And they think they’re bounding through
Lifes adventure
He’s the knight in shiny suit
She’s got squalor
Where’s the hope or beauty, truth or dignity?
Put that suitcase down before you answer me.

Sunday lunch, final day
At the station it starts to rain
“Yes I’m fine, yes I’ll write”
Weary grin and away she goes
But tonight I’ll eat alone
In my bedsit
Sober, stupid, idle, fat, old, old
We have nothing decent we can dream about
Not one thing that’s better than a cowards death.

Holding on, holding on
From your birth to the day you die
Let it rest, let it slide
One day you’ll see the face of Christ
And you think you’re bounding through
Lifes adventure
You see yourself in coloured clothes
Smiling nicely
That’s no stinking corner where all rats can feed
That’s the helicopter of the holy ghost
People starve and see their children shot to bits
Every corpse that falls will make him swell