Derelict

I dropped my anchor in the dead of night
I packed my suitcase and threw it away
I fell asleep in the funeral fire
I gave my clothes to the police man
Blow back derelict wind,
lay my soul in the fallow field
Blow back derelict wind,
lay my soul in the fallow field
Shooting venom at the passers-by
Hijackers tie the heavens down
I put my eyes in a paper bag
I'm spinning round like a gambling wheel
Blow back derelict wind,
lay my soul in the fallow field
Blow back derelict wind,
lay my soul in the fallow field
I dropped my anchor in the dead of night
I packed my suitcase and threw it away
I fell asleep in the funeral fire
I gave my clothes to the police man
Blow back derelict wind,
lay my soul in the fallow field
Blow back derelict wind,
lay my soul in the fallow field

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Written by: Beck / John King / Michael Simpson. Isn't this right? Let us know.