Lletres: David Sylvian. The Rabbit Skinner.

Who?ll do for him
Child of the fifties
With no common sense
No easy resting place

Only lichen on beaches
Oil on gun barrel
And the hard taste of pennies

A God in his folly
Stands as proud as you please
The lungs won?t full, the heart won?t start
Bad luck child of the seas

And he alone, is a man without qualities

Combed his body for disorders
But the disease lived on in far-off quarters

As a God everything was filled to excess
As a man he settled for less
Here lies the rabbit skinner
God love the rabbit skinner

A life without purchase, no story to tell
And three little bitches fight where he fell
Foxes, foxes, give her a sign
And tell the little girl, and show her what?s mine

Play hard and fast with the rules if you please
Here lies a man, without qualities