and it's you, and it's you, and it's you
And it's you, and it's you, shoo-be-doo, ba-da-da.
whe the soul of a man
is born in the country
there are nets flung at
it to hold back it's light.
You talk to me of nationality,
I shall try to fly by those nets.
...l use to think that you could see the soul,
where the skin stretches tight over the protruding hip bone,
that is where the soul is shining through.