Nine Shades To The Circle Testo

In shock we docked in Fish Head Harbour
where the lights were dimmed.
(Locked in, we couldn't see a thing . . . )
The floor was tin,
the sky was oil,
the air was poisoned lager
and the juke box pumped out schlager
because no-one pulled the plugs
(so many plugs . . . and sparks.)
The live wives kept us dancing.
Dance in brine, dance in seaweed.