Ayatollah Cornelius

Over the rooftops of the Poor Clares' Convent
Near Ladbroke Grove, a pit of fiery torment
An airship ascends
At the helm, dressed in brocade and ski shades
Our born aristo gives a jovial wave
"See you after the final phases"
His silver craft evades the blazes
He steers, perched on a bulging steamer trunk
Straight in front of you, love and shelter
No-one to threaten or judge
One more mile downhill
It's afternoon, the time has come to wake up
Motel curtain sticks to broken bottle
Waves break below
The majordomo pulls himself together
He may have guests to greet - well, almost never
Door bursts open, here's Cornelius
Tehran chic - turban, robe and t-shirt
"The keys to the Great Hall, man, if you please"
Days of wandering, years of failure
They could all be redeemed
One more mile downhill
None will question you, none will argue
You'll be whoever you say
Just one more mile downhill
What's the time? There is no time
What's the time? There is no time
The dreadful facts must be recorded
Out of reach of fire and flood, go forward:
Lemmy, Stacia, Dave The Badger,
their torsos exchanged due to chemical factors
What's the time? There is no time
What's the time? There is no time