who doesn't want their little bit of sun? we buy the sky to sell our little pies (our porkies sweat & start to run (a photon takes thirty thousand years to reach us yes us! here on our little island of sky in some boat (in the middle of the ocean having a gr8 time (wish youse were here so we could tell porkies till the sun goes down who wouldn't laugh to be a clown? the rain's falling down it's not your fault in fact it's your funeral (no: our trial! try to smile for the camera, babe (it's christmas after all (& even on this island of death we can still be merry (well carn't we? carn't we??