Coyne
Down at the Rainbow Curve, men in overalls were fighting their wives, fighting and wrestling.
Some of them used knives, plasticine molded knives made out of coal dust.
I, an aspirant man of property, watched their doings and sayings and said:
This is nothing.
You see that strangled me, I couldn't see what they'd seen, what they known although I know and I knew all the time.
Down at the Rainbow Curve, there were dresses made out of silk, cheap and awful like goldfish in a bowl, eyes that didn't mean a thing, burning flames of fury beneath sausages in the pan, eyes that said to me: Prove to me that you're a man.
And I didn't know nothing, no, oh, I'll put on my other voice and complain:
You don't know me, no no you never knew me, you never knew part or find out my name.
But I was right and you were wrong so I suppose we just carry on
Appreciating other each other from a distance now
You like anything I like nothing now
Get back into your hole where you come from. That's what they say to me.
Get back into your hole where you come from. That's what they say to me.
Get back into your hole where you come from. That's what they say to me.
Get back into your hole where you come from. But no so explicitly