Lyrics for Overabundance of Wit (1989)

---

---

For an overabundance of wit, there’s only beggars’ bowls and prison

For a boistrous brain, there are only ditches and dikes For a beautiful brain, there are only scabs and lice For universal love there are only bloodied faces

A bedsheet blows in the wind, walking through morning dew From fruitless ideas to ethereal guests From closed doors to buried animals From covered tables to heads busted open

A black satellite flies parallel to the road He will console and save, he will deliver peace Under a coarse wing, night around a round table A red-white poster, start up the scooter