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It's the great depression,
The greatest of the century,
People hot and thirsty,
But the water barrels empty,
There is no more to love about,
it's masculine and many,
And if you are hungry,
you'll join the fight eventually.

The market used to be the place for lovers and magicians,
Making fire with their hearts and hands to make decisions,
Now you find the baskers full of weiry inhibitions,
Once a year this happening, displayed on exhibition.

Now they need a candidate to take the fault of circumstance,
Trust and riddled then came and chose a man that flood an over [?]
Now his fate is sown in he had to call all relatives,
But he took his last appeal and claimed so he could take the chance,
So the constant love, the spirits told'em that he had to go,
No one dared to disagree cus' God said they were in the know,
So he kissed his boys goodbye, feeling deep as indigo,
Knowing he would have to prove his worth to all his friends and foes.

[Damon Albarn:]
Simple sounds, (songs - -)
Of repair,
That's enough,
For me,
And you,

It would take a million years before he found this little town,
And it was in Dappa found the locals called it middle ground,
So he took the journey back to share the fortune that he held,
Only then to find out the rain had drowned it when he left.
...

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