I went to see
Mrs Simpson,
Up ten flights of stairs.
My aunt had died,
Leaving me millions,
Which I wanted to share.
Door was closed,
Locked and barred,
The sign read sealed forever.
Should not have come,
Summers gone,
The year hangs tarred and feathered.
Like head on legs,
Rest of a person,
Somewhere in between.
I took the lot,
Taking you over,
All crazy and mean.
What we did and said in this place,
No one will ever know so what's your discrace?
Here comes broken backs and bloody tears.
The air's thick and black and you disappeared.
I went up,
To see Mrs Simpson,
But she was not there.
She may have gone,
Back to her husband,
But I don't really care.
Broken backs,
Heart attacks,
Don't help keep me sober.
I should not have come,
Cause what I've done,
Is done and gone and over.
So hard luck,
I won't own up,
At your inquest come December.
Its world war six,
Or twenty one,
The sense has gone its over.
Over and done.
