And so begins another day of broken hardship.
Another day of famine my guts rubble the cry.
I envy the screaming chip kids who gorge themselves.
I wish I was Eno.
I wish I was Eno.
I sleep under the arches with Flannigan and Allen.
The chorus girls and captains of bent cricket scores.
The cheap gin circles around and around.
I wish I was Eno.
I wish I was Eno.
If I could dig her up I could get her dentures.
Amongst hair, skin and bony bits.
Then I could eat the apples sent by God.
I wish I was Eno.
I wish I was Eno.
His head is an onion, His nose a sausage.
His breaches are made of corn beef with a taste of pesto.
If he was a meal he would be a beggars banquet.
I wish I was Eno.
I wish I was Eno.