David Bowie - A Small Plot of Land lyrics

[David Bowie - A Small Plot of Land lyrics]

Poor soul spit upon that
Poor soul
He never knew what hit him and it hit him so

Poor dunce he pushed back the pigmen
The Barbs laughed the fool is dead

Poor dunce he's less than within us
The brains talk but the will to live is dead
And prayer can't travel so far these days

The talk of your life standing so near
To innocent eyes

Poor dunce

Swings through the tunnels and claws his way
Is small life so manic
Are these really the days

Poor dunce, poor dunce



Poor soul spit upon that
Poor soul
He never knew what hit him and it hit him so

People spat upon him poor soul
Poor soul poor soul

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