Dogs Ropes and Slippy Boats

Let the ribbons slip or the rope angle under your hands
find the loop that sits or simply stands
break apart the globe you have under your feet
let the simple stutter as the idiots begin to speak
find the lost things you never knew you had
bring the better lads towards the bad
hang your head low but always fucking know
the liars heaven is the clowns home and final show
sire the good things in your heart
blast the dust away and don’t be sad
the tins hidden away in crafty cellars
dead and battered hearts sewn in crafty fellas
shear drops and a foot caught in a rope
let the salt water cover your head son
gulp it in and you can finally say
the dying dog had his day