Spitting blood in a sink in a German hotel bathroom
A wet clot of red gum juice, souvenir of wisdom's ration
Rinsing face, drying hair, humming "Oh Engineer" by the brothers Larcombe
Thinking of the bands I never got a chance to spend my cash on
Ché and his Caballero chucked it in when I said I liked them
Now I'll never catch them in a smoky room on Highbury Corner
I shall weep for them another day because I'm at the fulcrum
of the Voodoo graveyard see-saw and I'm not the only mourner

What do we do when our friends split up?
Five little sevens then belly up
There's no more ash, no more soda pop
Why did those five have to make it stop?

At least we have Storm And Stress to show for the DC Implosion
Mushrooms grown on an upstairs Smalley wall
are chopped down and moved away from
five icemen melt without hint of a reforming notion
and the clan I saw perform the most give a bow and leave my kingdom
Talented friends and 25 eclipse the work of certain strummers
Steel-string chords and a railway or a globe, or Mr. Bickle's nonsense
who can rescue us from the Embrace of these Monsoonless summers?
Don't rely on magic, friends because in rock there are no constants

What do we do when our friends split up?
Is there no way they can make it up?
If you bump into my penta friends
Be sure to ask if they meant to end