One Last Delivery

from For The Want Of A Home by Mexican Wolfboys

/

lyrics

This room is filled with
Fake laughter and beaten jokes
Under the cloak of abandoned hope

Early morning duty calls
Laughter gives way to routine
And hope abandons me
One last delivery

Don’t despair, what we’ll have will be real
Our idea of freedom and identity
And if you’re feeling poor, I’ll bring poetry
I’m the mailman of human liberty

The toothless is spitting in my face
Yelling and laughing loud
Although there’s nothing to laugh about

The smell of cigarettes and beer
Blurs the failure and futility
Existence thrown on the scrap heap
One last delivery

Don’t despair, what we’ll have will be real
Our idea of freedom and identity
And if you’re feeling poor, I’ll bring poetry
I’m the mailman of human liberty

A postcard marks the start
Explosion of young hearts
Lights from the past flicker on
See the writing on the wall

Don’t despair, what we’ll have will be real
Our idea of freedom and identity
And if you’re feeling poor, I’ll bring poetry
I’m the mailman of human liberty

I’m the mailman of humanity
I’m the mailman to society

credits

from For The Want Of A Home, released September 29, 2012

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Mexican Wolfboys Aachen, Germany

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