Verse 1

First one but one salute to those 'thout whom

I would not be here, those willing to irritate

The grain of hope native to the bivalve of the soul

And in time give rise to the pearl of a human future

Realtor of fate, do me a favour, I'm seeking a state

By which I can be saved and act as saviour;

My personal pick of heroes denoting its net of stars

That will let no dream of a denizen escape

My friends believe nation's a label to hold 'em back

But their disbelief in history? They're proud of that

I wish to see the world as it is, not in wish

By neoliberal Libra or Instagram filter:

A world to repulse, pick dreams of their meat

Make islands of man, demand use of words like "syncresis"

I want to see a picture of all-can-be in its totality

And be a man after all nationality

Chorus

Oh that was so real

By the shade was saved all our wind

That blows down every untroubled path

And spits its game to me

"Show me something I've never seen before"

Verse 2

"Yeah Mars was here, talking like a syphilitic about realtors."

"Then to the corner pub or to the ruins I believe he peeled to."

"Sounded like a man trying not to show his fear as it was."

"Spoke our language, speech still underpinned by tears of dogs."

Sometimes it's easy to be redeemed by a stranger

And remain one such that faith need never be paid

Chelsea, Napoli, Seville and Brazil:

If one won't be my Arcadia, maybe the others will

Those ruins look to me like memories

Confusing those who've been told they own 'em

Those ruins so fine stretched from city to coast -

One thought seemed to dig and home among 'em more than most;

That in a moment's holding you

I'd feel a closeness so profound, and so updone

It felt like we were merging into one

Verse 3

I've been around the world

And I ain't seen myself anywhere

And since i don't know what perfection means to me

Nor any perfection did I see

So beholding many souls' migration I came home

Knowing and aware of what holds me back:

Looking without seeing, a human not doing

Merely being

Some look within, I look without to find my Arcadia

Where I can kick back with a Co*e and watch silver be made-ia;

Where I can see before it happens what I won't be around to see-ia;

Then after to my own private little island be a retiree-ia

The voicebox will still be mine

But the stories of others it'll be voxing for a due time

You and I will reunite in about nine tracks' time;

I'm heading out for rhyme