Brian Eno


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Brian Eno - Here Come the Warm Jets



Father, we make claims on our knees 
Dawn enter here for we've nowhere to be 
Nowhere to be 
Nowhere to be 
 
Father, stains they're all on our knees 
Down on our words and we've nothing to be 
Nothing to be 
Nothing to be 
 
Father, down we're all on our saints 
Paid to appease though we've nothing these days 
Nothing these days 
Nothing these days 
 
Father, here they're sprawled in a daze 
We're down on our knees and we've nothing to say

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Here Come the Warm Jets



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