Self Combust
Tulipo Pellow was a kind sort of fellow
Always going round trying to make people mellow
The skin on his face is off brown and sort of yellow
Talks with a whistle, like his mouth is a cello
Everytime you pass always nods and says hello
Living on the streets of an inner city ghetto
Knew life was hard did the man Tulipo Pellow
Three kids two dogs and a full grown tortillo
Nights finding hard just to lay down on a pillow
The song repeats next door,
called 'Long way to Amarillo'
He tried to escape the noise
and go live inside a meadow
But couldn't get away,
so now lives his life in sorrow
Walks round the streets
trying to beg steal and borrow
Would not hurt a fly,
but shoots a man down with an arrow
Now when they ask Tulipo,
why did he let it go?
He tells them that is something,
he doesn't really know.
