Your Belgian Things

The men were here to get your Belgian things
 They'll store them for you in an airplane hangar
 There's guys in biohazard suits, mud caking on their rubber boots
 They've come to keep your pretty things from danger
 The men came here to get your Belgian things
 They'll spend the whole day hauling them downstairs
 I shot a roll of 32 exposures
 My camera groans beneath the weight it bears
 I can see you in my sleep
 Playing the points for all your worth
 Walking gingerly across
 The bruised earth
 The men came here to get your Belgian things
 They waltzed right through the door and went fluorescent
 Their boots were black and shiny and your treasures gleamed like stars
 Bones from deep down in the fertile crescent
 The arteries are clogging in the mainframe
 There's too much information in the pipes
 I saw the mess you left up in the east bedroom
 A tiger's never gonna change its stripes
 I guess, I guess
 But Jesus, what a mess
 One way in
 No way out
 The men came here to get your Belgian things
 While I was only here to see them do it
 I wish you had a number where you are
 It's hard with no one here to help me through it
 I can see you in my sleep
 Playing the points for all your worth
 Walking gingerly across
 The bruised earth