If you have a clue to what they might be, please email me.
Roses shower the Maltese figurehead
Tropic of Cancer, the mortal wound of tempered sand
Maybe county line pulling on both that mans fears
My lover and I [Einstein?] stand screwing behind the back
At least that's what I hear
Well the whisky's unforgiving
It burns right on down the track, it does
But it ain't worth a dime
Well I'll be waiting right here
As a means of survival
And I'll be waiting right here
Waiting for my captains arrival
