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Ixion

Well somebody has got to drive the van. Either that or a song for all the West End's bicycle messengers. If the Tape Gallery is still open in Lexington Street, then will someone firebomb it please?

Some folks are never happy some are on the make
Some are not content with a slice
And want the whole of the cake
There's the greedy and the malcontents the weak and the strong
We don't entertain the thought
That we could ever do anything wrong

Ixion's pinned to his wheel
Is he ever going to turn his face away
Is he ever going to learn that it's never going to pay
He's going to be turning round in circles forever and a day

An oath of desperation stifles tears of bitter rage
The pen nib crawls in spiral scrawls
Across the empty page
Where once a year of inspiration could be written in a day
But what's the point in writing
Now you've nothing more to say

If you could be an artist would you want to waste your time
Painting passions from a broken hearts
Imaginary lines
If grey skies up above prevent you coming up for air
Try to paint only the things that you see
Not the ones you know to be there

Ixion's pinned to his wheel
Is he ever going to turn his face away
Is he ever going to learn that it's never going to pay
He's going to be turning round in circles
Forever and a day

Chords:
Intro. B F# E B F#
Verse B F# E F#
Chorus B E B F#

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