Nail - James Reyne

And so we wend our way to Big Smoke

Cat on a hot, tin Tennessee

In my town shoes and your golden slippers

And Hart Crane’s guarantee

All these shuttered, little coastal towns

Full of stutterers and lispers

And dark sunglasses, wide-brimmed hats

And whispers, whispers

And I looked to the sky

And it looked like rain

These Towers of Babel Babble

Are gonna come down again

On this American talk show

With these American talk show hosts (x2)

For want of a nail the shoe was gone

For want of a shoe the horse can’t run

For want of a horse the rider’s no more

For want of a rider we lost the saddle

We lost the battle and then we lost the war

And I was never the man

That I used to be

Just the boy most likely

You ever did see

On this American talk show

With these American talk show hosts (x2)