Atlas

I met a mixer

He talked the head off my throat

He was built for the mountains

But lived in a shoebox in Soho

Strange as it sounds

I didn't want dear motor-mouth to go

Sara points to Paris

Sara seems to sink in sorrow

In the uproar of drunk dragons

A single sudden move and we're toast

We're all mortals prone to hurt

Crushed berries in the dirt

I know

But this world's your world

This world's your world to roam

This land's your land

I understand but I want to go home

I want to go home

Another rhubarbing barfly

A zombie on a fruit machine

Where the wallpaper reminds me

Of a funeral from 2003

There's a town

On a river

On a planet

On the shoulders of me

But this world's your world

This world's your world to roam

This land's your land

I understand but I want to go home

I want to go home