The Hairy Years - The Trash Can Sinatras

I lingered within earshot of the seaside souvenier shopfront

(Itchy fingers sweating on a snoscene, little puppy eyes dart)

A tiny world is ending, detective is descending

(All the savings gone on bloody day one, little butterflies start)

Here began my hairy years

Set me down on a country lane myself

Drinking myself lame

Call, collect and gather me, take me intravenously

Or I’ll just prowl the hills

It’s hares and hunts, you scour the country

We are not Jack and Jill

Why do you tumble after me?