Слова:
Marillion Clutching At Straws

And if my owners let me have some free time some day With all good intention I would probably run away Clutching the short straw At that time of the

Is it wrong to talk to myself even when there's nobody else I'm just checking out that I'm not gone under the water Thrown on the beach like a seal

Bell boys checking out the hookers in the bar Slug-like fingers trace the star-spangled clouds of cocaine on the mirror The short straw took its bow

Where do we go from here Terror in Rue de St. Denis, murder on the periphery Someone else in someone else's pocket Christ knows I don't know how to stop it Poppies at

a jerk" So if you want my address it's number one at the end of the bar Where I sit with the broken angels clutching at straws and nursing our scars

so far Take it away, take it away, take it away Take me away, take me away, take me away From the dream on the barbed wire at Flanders and Bilston