| Autumn is warm | |
| These are my golden years | |
| Roll on a casino of shadows at the Ocean del Sol | |
| Fortune is long | |
| But these are the older years | |
| When the waterfall spider sparkles and turns like a clock in the dark | |
| Far from the spring | |
| Sit in a barber's chair | |
| Still bringing glamour to towns where the hammer must fall | |
| Feminine man | |
| Tall in the evening air | |
| With the Zulu who walks with you always by your side | |
| And the pain goes | |
| And explain those | |
| Spiders are building their webs across skulls' eyes in the dark | |
| Far from springtime | |
| In a barber's chair | |
| Time to pull on the face that you keep in a jar by the door | |
| Galloping ghosts | |
| Take me to Zanzibar | |
| Forward and forward the chargers they're charging in dreams at least | |
| Rallying round | |
| The faces of every old ghost | |
| In a postage stamp world we slipper away with a cradle of cats | |
| In a postage stamp world | |
| There is nothing yet left to believe in | |
| For a fox-hunting man who has sold all his clothes to the slave trade | |
| You are lovely in face | |
| Love me in body and everything | |
| You've got laughter and brains and I love you so much in your hat | |
| And the pain goes | |
| Further and further and deeper and deeper inside | |
| And the time goes so slow in the winter time rolling in straw and hay | |
| For a fox-hunting man | |
| Who can stand in the fire and just fade away | |
| You are lovely of face, you are lovely of body and soul | |
| Galloping ghosts | |
| Take me to Zanzibar | |
| Forward and forward the chargers they're charging in dreams at least | |
| Rallying round | |
| The faces of every old ghost | |
| In a postage stamp world we slipper away with a cradle of cats |
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