Flytipping

We play on the road

Flytipping, careful as you go

And we'll watch as the lorries

Transport their precious loads

With a bag in our hands

Flytipping, me and my patient man

Just by the hard shoulder

There's few who'll understand

What is mine and what is yours?

Do we own these things?

What has it all been for?

Flytipping on the road, of course

What is yours and what is ours?

Do we fool ourselves

With all those pretty words?

Flytipping on the road with her

And I'll take you to the verges

As the paper drifts like falling snow

Under the trees

Two hunters looking for ivory

Discard their possessions

Cast them to the breeze

'Cause the worms in the ground

And the crows, as they circle round

Don't need these things to cling to

The road's their playground

What is mine and what is yours?

Do we own these things?

What has it all been for?

Flytipping on the road, of course

Shiny things that turn into rust

Do we fool ourselves

With all this pretty stuff?

Flytipping feels like just enough

And I'll take you to the verges

By the nettles, by the roundabouts

And I'll pick you wild roses

In the tunnels by the underpass