Under Wraps

The money won't last forever 

rent man called twice today. 

I hope some day you'll find me 

in the lap of luxury. 

Searched for a new apartment 

but they don't grow on trees. 

Just want to lay my head 

in the lap of luxury. 



Stepped out on a new horizon 

felt a new spring in my feet. 

Found a job, it could set me up 

dangling in the lap of luxury. 



And the gaffer is a man of substance 

drives a jag and takes high tea. 

Lives beyond the industrial wasteland, 

laughing in the lap of luxury. 



I need money, now, to soothe my heart! 



Buy me a Datsun or Toyota 

get the tax man to agree 

all expenses I can muster 

from the lap of luxury.

Keep it quiet. (Go slow.) 

Circulate. Need to know. 

Stamp the date upon your file 

masquerade, but well worth while. 

Wrapped in the warmth of you 

wrapped up in your smile. 

Wrapped in the folds of your attention. 

Wear an air (keep mum) 

of casual indifference. 



Careful how you go 

about your usual business. 



Wrapped in daydreams of you 

wrapped up by your eyes. 

Wrapped in the folds of your attention. 

Under wraps! I've got you under wraps. 

Under wraps! I've got you under wraps. 



Tell you when (not yet) 

soon the great unveiling. 

Bless my boots! Upon my soul! 

Secrecy, it is my failing. 

Wrapped in your Summer night 

wrapped in your Autumn leaves. 

Wrapped in the Winter of your sleeping.

She smiles at me from beyond the eastern sea-shore. 

Flashing jewelled eyes, she hoists her skirts so high. 

Nouvelle cuisine or an oyster bar it's really up to her. 

I'll write every cheque she brings to me. 

I shoot on sight it's my European legacy. 

Round the castle walls about the Highlands and the Islands 

the faint reminders stand. Visitors who took a hand 

a thousand years ago, or so stranded high and dry by tides 

washed up a new identity. 

The channel's wide but it's their European legacy. 



I strain my eyes against the southern light advancing. 

On whiter cliffs I'm high. The sea birds roll and tumble as they fly. 

I hear distant mainland music echo in my island ears. 



My feet begin to move instinctively 

to the warmer beat of my European legacy. 



She smiles at me from beyond the eastern sea-shore. 

Flashing jewelled eyes, she hoists her skirts so high. 

Nouvelle cuisine or an oyster bar it's really up to her. 

I'll write every cheque she brings to me. 

She shoots on sight it's her European legacy.

Later, that same evening, she ran. 

I think she ran alone. 

Later, she had early warning from 

a hidden phone. 

Checked with the embassy 

she might have been 

a million miles away. 

Should I circulate her likeness 

at all airports without delay? 

It was later later that same evening. 

Earlier, we had had a drink or four 

in some Kensington hotel. 

Hard it was hard to keep my mind 

on what she had to sell. 

And with all business done 

we took a cab 

should it be her place or mine? 

Good security prevailed 

and I was home just after nine. 

It was later later that same evening. 



Now I want you back. 

Yes, they want you back. 

We want you back. 

My country wants you back. 



Later, in the wee small hours 

there was heavy traffic on the radio. 



Scare at a channel port 

small craft warnings to keep to shore. 

Lobstermen thought they saw 

a submarine 

half submerged suspiciously. 

Though I arrived too late, 

I'm sure she blew a kiss to me 

as the sub sailed out to sea.

In and out of shady places 

walking on cold corners of the maze. 

Following the trace you leave unwittingly. 

I wanna be no Saboteur. 

Oh, no, me no Saboteur. 



Painted ducks across your landscape 

happy in your domesticity (it don't come free). 

Misfortune, like a Sparrow Hawk, hangs over you. 

Wanna be no Saboteur. 

No, no, me no Saboteur. 



Deepest regrets I humbly offer you 

as I cut into your life. 

With clean precision, all is simplified 

pass the hat and pass the knife. 



By now you must be worried, wondering 

who is me and what lies behind my art. 

I'm only removing broken sea-shells from the beach 

oh, no, me no Saboteur. 



There's at least one of me inside your ranks 

in your factory or school. 

I anticipate a cleansing opportunity 

to take the horns by the bull. 



History forever writing 

pages to be cut or painted grey, 

or celebrated like Jesus in his 

temple rage 

as he chased the money-men away. 



I wanna be no Saboteur. 

Be no, be no Saboteur.

Tune into messages 

from the Eastern avenue. 

Lock on to the ether 

squeeze the signal through and through. 

War of the air-waves 

making scare-waves. 

I'm getting pictures 

from my radio (Free Moscow). 

Moscow Radio. 

Voice of America 

symbol of the free. 

Mine of disinformation 

pleading sympathy. 

Down in the cold-war games 

forever naming names. 

I'm getting pictures 

from my radio (Free Moscow). 

Keep getting pictures 

from my radio (Free Moscow). 



I put my headphones on 

reach out on the beam. 

Shutter up the windows 

I'm getting up some steam. 

Somebody's at the door 

catching me in the act 

they've been keeping the score. 

I'm getting pictures 

from my radio (Free Moscow). 

Yes, I'm getting pictures 

from my radio (Free Moscow).

Black Volga following me 

Nobody's car. 

Mr. No-one at the wheel of 

Nobody's car. 

Wet pavements, thin apartments 

quiet dissent from darkened doorways. 

I want out alive. 

Speak up for me if you can. 

So, careful how you drive 

in tourist city. 

Slap in front of my hotel 

it's Nobody's car. 

Is that my limousine? 

No, it's Nobody's car. 

Are you on routine assignment? 

Plastic shades on black-browed eye-hole. 

I read this book before. 

I even saw the film. 



How did the ending go? 

(In tourist city.) 



Black out. 



It's a weird scenario. 

I've seen a thousand times before 

but only on my video. 



Feel my steps quick in the headlights of Nobody's car. 



Down cobbled alley with no exit from 

Nobody's car. 

Doors slam, two figures silhouette 

somewhere before, I feel we've met. 

Can't tell you any more. 

I agreed to go along with all they asked of me. 

Intourist city. 

I drive Nobody's car.

When the rats are running 

and the boys are gunning 

for heads on a tin plate 

you can hear the footfall 

softly in the back yard. 

And the black jack is called 

face up on the last card. 

You'd better call your witness 

in your dirty business. 

Trop tard sera le cri. 

Better run while you can 

better set the tall sail. 

Better make deep cover 

before the boys have you nailed. 



There's just one chance to get away 

I'll catch up with you another day. 

I'll close my eyes and count to ten 

and come right after you again. 



Grab your credit cards 

cash in on your resources. 

Take your passport from the drawer, 



don't stop to change the horses. 



Get out of the heat. 



Now can you feel the pressure? 

Have you got the measure 

of being a wanted man? 

Cold drink in your hand 

hot sweat on your brow. 

And there's no understanding 



going to help you now. 



Grab your credit cards 

cash in on your resources. 

Take your passport from the drawer, 

don't stop to change the horses. 

Notify all parties 

of an earlier vacation. 

No use trying to board the train 

after it's left the station. 



Get out of the heat.

Keep it quiet. (Go slow.) 

Circulate. Need to know. 

Stamp the date upon your file 

masquerade, but well worth while. 

Wrapped in the warmth of you 

wrapped up in your smile. 

Wrapped in the folds of your attention. 

Wear an air (keep mum) 

of casual indifference. 



Careful how you go 

about your usual business. 



Wrapped in daydreams of you 

wrapped up by your eyes. 

Wrapped in the folds of your attention. 

Under wraps! I've got you under wraps. 

Under wraps! I've got you under wraps. 



Tell you when (not yet) 

soon the great unveiling. 

Bless my boots! Upon my soul! 

Secrecy, it is my failing. 

Wrapped in your Summer night 

wrapped in your Autumn leaves. 

Wrapped in the Winter of your sleeping.

Paparazzi, can't make the man. 

Paparazzi, can't break the man. 

Next to the transit lounge 

see the Paparazzi tears. 

No-one came in today 

from Boston or Tangiers. 

And in departures 

only faceless trippers trip, 

loaded with duty free 

held in white knuckle grip. 



Snap it up, flash away 

steal a camel for a day. 

Break the story in heavy type 

the news is running late tonight. 



Be-decked with Nikon necklaces 

hear the Paparazzi cries. 

Under their noses walk 

the famous in disguise. 

Conspicuously huddled there 

but no-one stops to look. 

They've got their crayons out 

to colour in the book. 



Snap it up, flash away 

steal a camel for a day. 

Break the story in heavy type 

Paparazzi won't be home tonight. 



Paparazzi write it down. 

Paparazzi turn it around. 

Paparazzi take it, fake it, 

break it. 

'cause it's a story. 

Now someone's cut the lines 

communication's down. 

All photo film is fogged. 

Celebrities surround 

and jab their fingers at me. 

They kiss but I can't tell. 

Even poor Paparazzi 

must have privacy as well. 



Snap it up, flash away 

steal a camel for a day. 

Break the story in heavy type 

the news is running late tonight. 



Snap it up, flash away 

steal a camel for a day. 

Break the story in heavy type 

Paparazzi won't be home tonight.

Sailing round the true-blue sphere 

is it too late to bale out of here? 

Well, there has to be some better way 

to turn back the night, 

spin on to yesterday. 

The old man and his crew 

after all these years, 

it's apogee. 

Pilot training and remorse 

spirit friends fly too, 

at apogee. 

Apogee solar bright. 

Apogee through the night. 

Apogee overground. 



Don't think I'll be coming down. 



Screened for a stable mate 

with nerves of ice we flew, 

at apogee. 

No creativity allowed 

to pass through stainless veins of steel, 

at apogee. 

Apogee put the kettle on. 

Tight-lipped soldier on. 

High point communicate. 

Don't forget to urinate. 



So glad they put this window in. 

How to explain, how to begin? 

See! Tennyson and Wordsworth there 

waiting for me in the cold, thin air. 

Beware a host of unearthly daffodils 

drifting golden, turned up loud. 

Tell the boys back home, 

I'm gonna get some. 



The Wrong Stuff's loose in here 

I'm climbing up the walls, 

at apogee. 

So hoist the skull and bones 

death and glory's free, 

at apogee. 



A stranger wind, a solar breeze 

I'm walking out upon the starry seas. 

See pyramids, see standing stones, 

pink cotton undies and blue telephones. 



Goodbye, cruel world that was my home 

there's a cleaner space out there to roam. 

Put my feet up on the moons of Mars 

sit back, relax and count the stars.