Fine Sucking Bottle © 1972, aidan nolan

He is the killing priest never be seen,
He is the vanity, truth and profanity maker of amplified dreams,
She is the sacrifice catch as catch can,
She is the morning light turning day into night, taken as part of the plan.
Who’s to know, who’s got solo to let me go,
And may the mad hippie woman, and the rock & roll dream,
And the fine sucking bottle, lay the love-light on me.

He is the lonely bird trying to fly,
He is the monument and he knows what you meant when you were wondering why,
She is the silent one calling her name,
She is the piety, sin and anxiety making the rules of the game,
Who’s to know, who’s got solo to let me go,
And may the mad hippie woman, and the rock & roll dream,
And the fine sucking bottle, lay the love-light on me.

Turning the world around fool in the play, I want to live in my head,
Churning the word around just one more day, wish I was home in my bed

He is the battle he never will win,
She is the ecstasy writing the text that he never will learn to begin
Who’s to know, who’s got solo to let me go,
And may the mad hippie woman, and the rock & roll dream,
And the fine sucking bottle, lay the love-light on me.