Why Banacek Doesn't Love

Yes, your guile, it has bestowed me With a knowledge of espionage, intrinsic and big I accredit you with this, that And a string of broken entries But don't forget quoting and stealing And quoting and stealing And quoting and stealing and quoting Did I mention The Caesarean, it could take all night And potentially all day But the boys are all scared, the surgeons must be spared They'd be pretenders, pretenders all of them The throne - a summer home, six weeks, no pay With the stitches we've sewn Our hands, they become trees In the genealogy of which there Lay trials and deceits Therein there lay trials and deceits There lay trials and deceits Believe me, when I breathe, it means I'm seceding from a love I don't believe of Before you know, we find ourselves in witch country Playing a mean harpsichord, a slow accordion To people far more proficient than we'll ever be I recant on all the present glories In the face of better stories Yes, the years always end in winter here Amongst all the loose talk Turn the page, you might understand what they're saying A language with curves, girlfriend-ed and giddy One illshapen but still expensive The other one somewhat free While we nail the door shut The rut we expected was right here The dykes were in place But the pike men replaced them with spears I know it doesn't sound likely But tonight it's all I see A seceding from a love we don't believe of