The Reckoning

I phoned you up from Dallas

But your heart was still in marble

And your head

Was reckoning



Your friends are dis-compos-mentis

And like most in leather jackets are

Coveting

Reckoning, reckoning



And you're sleeping with some hippie half-wit

Who thinks, he's Mr. Mark Smith

Reckoning

Beckoning, reckoning, reckoning



I'm left alone in Europe

Consulting an atlas

Wandering

Wandering



And it's evil that you spark off

In disguise as basic truth

Listening

Listening, listening



Reckoning

Reckoning

Reckoning

Beckoning



Reckoning

Beckoning

Reckoning