CONTRABAND (©Words and music by Paul F. Cowlan)
Good vibrations, lost and found on the motorways and borders between Tuscany and Hesse. Theres no set tariff for this kind of import anyway.
We took our chances with it down at the border.
Didnt pay the duty that we ought to pay.
Told the soldiers that we couldnt afford it.
They didnt listen anyway.
Driving in the rain, neither of us said a word of it,
Just kept staring at the road ahead.
Both of us pretending that wed never even heard of it,
There was nothing to be said?
Warm smiles, a candle on the table, hills beneath the moon,
Bright fires and Tuscan fables. Hazy afternoons.
If wed shared it with them down on the border,
Theyd lock it in a cupboard, throw the keys away.
long faces and short orders.
They turned us over, didnt they?
Read the message on your own front gate.
Its too early to be born too late!
They find it difficult to contemplate
that theyre not the only ones who know whats going on.
They were heavy with us down on the border.
In their uniforms of green and grey.
Tongue in cheek we said we couldnt possibly afford it.
And they let us get away.
Nothing alcoholic, no camcorder,
Nothing they could specify in any way,
Papers stamped, and all the documents in order.
Just a little something we forgot to say.
We gotta, gotta, gotta got away.
If they read the message on their own front gate
theyd find it easier to contemplate.
But its far too little and much too late
to guess whats going on.
Were away and gone!