The King Of The White Buckets

The king of the white buckets
Strolling around the pub
Looking out for puking up people
Collecting their spite and disgrace
But the chairs are glooming
Of honour and pride ...

The chairs are glooming
Of honour and pride
And the glasses are empty
Spiders inside
The air is electric
The doors open wide
Giddy words playing
Hide with a gibe

The king of the white buckets
Looking out for better material
For brilliant little flames
Completting his jumble of thoughts
Behind is a glooming room
... of honour and pride
A glooming room of honour and pride
The buckets are full, years inside
And the ideas are growing
In bad ventilation
The guests are awaking
In sudden animation