Violet Hill

Was a long and dark December,

When the banks became cathedrals

And a fox became God.

Priests clutched onto bibles

Hollowed out to fit their rifles

And a cross held aloft.

I don't want to be a soldier

Who the captain of some sinking ship

Would stow, far below.

So if you love me, why d'you let me go?

When the future's architectured

By a carnival of idiots on show

You'd better lie low.

When I'm dead and hit the ground

A love back home it unfolds

And if you love me, won't you let me know?