Lark from Lark by Lark

Lark

Larks tongue will be the death of it yet.
As bitter as old boots and as cursed as cut-throat steel
It wound itself around its foe,
At last that wretched foe could speak no more,
Its conversation, though, had been poor

Lark had been held in high esteem
Declared a protected species by the queen no less
Before she lost her head
The president, so pleased by events,
Now exposed what had been till then
A secret of the queen
Lark served up as delicacy

To celebrate the expose
The president held a soiree
And what appeared on silver trays
To feed the esteemed dignitaries?
Not Lark, that would have been amiss

Oh lark oh lucky Lark, no not so,
You see, although the president’s profession
was to fix minds
His passion was to dismember
And no expense spared to hunt down Lark,
First enticed from woods then plundered from the skies

Larks tongue fed through the paper shredder
(Where Presidents clients disappear)
No whistle blowing as Lark is pulled wing from wing
And sliced from ear to ear
Now the President has gone to ground
And not a sound
And not a sound

Jonathan Presland 1995

• Alternative
• Diverse
• Soundtrack
• Milton Keynes