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Album:
Warchild (1974)
Sealion
One, two - a-one, two, three, two, two, three
Over the mountains and under the sky
Riding dirty gray horses, go you and I
Mating with chance, copulating with mirth
The sad-glad paymasters, for what it's worth
The ice cream castles are refrigerated
The supermarketeers are on parade
There's a golden handshake hanging round your neck
As you light your cigarette on the burning deck
And you balance your world on the tip of your nose
Like a sealion with a ball at the carnival
You wear a shiny skin and a funny hat
The almighty animal trainer lets it go at that
You bark ever so slightly at the trainer's gun
With your whiskers melting in the noon-day sun
You flip and you flop under the big white top
Where the long-legged ring-mistress starts and stops
But you know, after all, the act is wearing thin
As the crowd grow uneasy and the boos begin
But you balance your world on the tip of your nose
You're a sealion with a ball at the carnival
Just a trace of pride upon our fixed grins
For there is no business like the show we're in
There is no reason, no rhyme, no right
To leave the circus till we've said goodnight
The same performance in the same old way
It's the same old story to this Passion Play
So, we'll shoot the moon and hope to call the tune
And make no pin cushion of this big balloon
Look how we balance the world on the tips of our noses
Like sealions with a ball at the carnival
Would you like another cup of tea, dear
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Sealion lyrics.
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