The Will
So, I was awoken from my annual month-long coma, induced by the stress of modern day living, by a knock at my bandaged front door. It was hatrick Patrick the postman, so called for his three goal bonanza in the 1978 pub football championships, Sunday League.

Hatrick Patrick handed me a registered envelope from a firm of solicitors in the City: Gable, Gobble and Waif, purveyors of legal good-taste. The registered envelope informed me that one Albert Scott London had recently passed away and I was invited to the reading of the will next day. What do you know? Santa Claus, ho ho ho!

He was a long lost uncle of mine who had apparently been stalking me on and off for the last ten years, watching my development through a periscope that popped out of the roof of his mobile home. Kind of kooky huh? Well, that's family for you.

Gable, Gobble (Waif was ill) handed me plans and diagrams and an itinerary but alas no cash. My heart sank, until they handed me, in a gold case, the keys to my uncle's tank. The keys to my uncle's tank?

I've got a tank
I could rob a bank I could drive it through the Seven Eleven
Up and down the Westway
In and out the red lights
Heart attack in your city tonight

If you do my will
You will earn one mil.
Tank!

So I followed the plans and the diagrams and the itinerary to an underground cavernous warehouse somewhere in the suburbs. I found the hidden entrance in the bushes, tapped in the security code and made my way inside. It was all Gotham City with gadgets and inventions everywhere. I must have spent most of the day in there because before I knew it, it was dark, dark in my heart.

I climbed aboard the tank and lowered myself inside. I proceeded to go crazy with heart pumping anticipation. I kicked that beast into life. It roared like a dinosaur prowling the underground drains of a city at night. As the automatic cavern doors opened, I slid it into gear and was hit by the biggest rush of bright thought clear. I flipped the switch for the stereo sound system; I popped in my tape of AudioPorn's 'Turn Me On'. I put on my tank type goggles and I proceeded to travel.

I've got a tank
I could rob a bank
I could drive it through the Seven Eleven
Up and down the Westway
In and out the red lights
Heart attack in your city tonight

If you do my will
You will earn one mil.
Tank

Welcome to the World
Ladies and Gentlemen: Welcome to the world. Thrill at our skill and acumen as we commit commercial suicide.

Turn Me On
Turn me on
Make me come like an atom bomb

Feed my need
Are you rich enough to take my seed?
You feed my need
Feed my need
Me and the tank on the motorway
We're MOT'd

Turn me on
Make me come like an atom bomb

I Don't Need No Doctor
I don't need no doctor

A Million Tiny Bombs
As our hero rushes through the night
A million stragglers stumble homeward
A million tiny bombs
Of dashed dreams and unfulfilled ambitions
Tick within their sodden chests

The City made them ill today
And the tiny drops of venom
From another bitten lip
Are being tightly packed into a powder keg
Of flesh that will rip through
Their hearts and homes

Closer now

The City made them ill today
And tomorrow they will carry on the disease
Waiting to explode
A danger to themselves
As the bad chemicals and the toxins
Trickle into the places where
As the bad chemicals and the toxins
Trickle into the places where
Love used to be
Close your eyes little one
And climb aboard the last train to hitsville with me

Dreaming of you
I was dreaming of you

No matter how I try
I can't find a radio station
That's playing tunes for us
I've ripped the radio out of the tank
'cause all I'm hearing
Is this corporate sponsored
Marketing media mush

Closer now

Sell it up, sell it all now
Cash in your pensions and your mortgages
Step off that career ladder
Before the bad chemicals and the toxins get you
And you find yourself in nowheresville
Cast off your birthright of coma
Leave this Roman outpost
Fell some sun on your back
Swim in some fresh snow
And breathe in this big blue ocean

Dreaming of you
I was dreaming of you
The last train to hitsville

Dreaming of you
I was dreaming of you
The last train to shitsville

Dreaming of you
I was dreaming of you
The last train to skaville

Tick tock tick tock

Closer now

Never going back
As the forever-circling commuter family ride the infinite train to regression, I proceeded to travel. I know now that I won't be going back. I made too much toast this morning as I camped in the woods by the motorway. I will make my toast into a boat. It will be my raft across the English Channel. I will hit the Continent where rules are different. From there I should be able to get passage for me and my tank on an old steam powered liner across the big ocean to the final destination on the itinerary.

By this time I had become a celebrity with a key waiting for me in every city. If they don't get you one way they get you another. I guess it's time to go undercover. But before then, one last dance mon petit amour.

The last Waltz
Ah!
Regarde la lumiere
L'Arc de Triomphe
C'est Magnifique
Le saucisson est tres bon
J'ai fait dans mon pantalon
Je joue avec un bateau
Pourquoi, pourquoi, pourquoi
Ou est la chien?
Ah, la chienne est avec moi
Dans le tank bleu
Fin de la comedie

Dance with me

Goodbye Blue Monday
Bored of living?
Addicted to easy listening?

Anything to extend this comas unending
Aroma of dependency
Slap on your backpack
Get out of the ratsack
Stow away over the sea

Each day is precious you see
And I'll no longer be beat
By these streets
Anymore
Tanks away!
Goodbye blue Monday

It's a Very Deep Ocean
It's a very deep ocean
And the Captain's on the bridge again
He's had four thousand tots of rum to last a lifetime
Hair trickles
Salt water
Back again

He says it's a very deep ocean

Full steam ahead I'll face the storm
And the sky is once more blackened
With the lies of advertising

Captain's on the bridge again
He regresses that the mating places are the limousines
I washed the past away
I wash it off
I rip my skin
I rip my eyes out
Too much I've seen

It's a very deep ocean

The Captain's on the bridge again
And he's pissed with his fucking emotions
Leading astern and no-one dare does stray

Lies and more lies
Take me to sea
To find a better way

Beach Burning Party
Here's the P45
The guide to my life as a taxpayer

Here is proof of my birth
It will be the torch that starts the bonfire

Here are all those exams
That helped them to plan my CV career

But here, here is the flame
Still burning untamed that lights this leaving pyre

The tank and I made our way along the seabed after the ship went down (there's many a drunk fish out there tonight feeding on the captains dead body).

Back on dry land.

It was on a tropical beach under a 'happiness Stan' moon that I took out all the documents that had chartered the progress of my life. As per my Uncle's instructions I made a fire and proceeded to burn them one by one. I danced around the flames and winked at the moon (I hoped it understood).

The ceremonial burning and my nonsensical giggling drew the native girls out of the bushes. They got out their bongos and joined me around the fire.

They gave me a toke on their peace pipe and I gave them a toke on mine. Well, what do you know, as we proceeded to dance and eat and drink and love the night away, my skin stayed on my body but everything else fell away.

We danced the night away
Closer now
Dance the night away

Here's the P45
The guide to my life as a taxpayer

Here is proof of my birth;
It will be the torch that starts the bonfire

Here are all those exams
That helped them to plan my CV career

But here, here is the flame
Still burning untamed that lights this leaving pyre

The Final Destination
So, I made my way into the hills. My face kissed into a smile by the native girls, the air clear and my horizons expanded. The tank had taken over and was driving to the final destination autopilot. I sat on the turret, out my feet up and took in the view. Travelling through olive groves and scented forests I felt like the platinum blue static that is held in the space between young lovers' hands.

The tank had morphed itself into a sunflower and as we drove through villages children made wishes as they threw their parents TV screens under the tracks. Soon I was descending through the shady glades. Down, down to a vista that looked out over the ocean that was massaging a beach into infinity.

The tank stopped outside a tavern called God's Getaway. Sitting outside was my long lost dead uncle (who was obviously not dead at all). An angel in surf leisurewear brought me out a cool beer and my uncle proceeded to make things clear.
"Boy," he said, "I've watched your descent. I saw you curl up and give in. I watched your filament become frosted. Well son, it's time to thaw out. Hey, you look better already! We'll spend the summer up here cooking fresh seafood, reading, painting, whatever you want. Hey, why not invite your friends. Let's have a party."

He then laughed until he cried and he cried until he laughed and he laughed until he was nearly sick.
"Well boy, what do you think?"
I looked back at him and said "Uncle, you are a fucking lunatic."

He smiled back and said "Son, I'll take that as a compliment. Now let's set about burying that tank, all except the sunflower".

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