Shallow Grave

Simon Reed & Patrick Cannell 2007

Our instincts are buried, buried in a shallow grave,
Sprinkled with the niceties of society.
We cannot keep them down, they push up through the ground,
A relic from our furthest ancestry.

They always will be there,
Underneath the stairs and any other notion is fantasy.

The chimpanzees are sleeping, please do not disturb,
Their appetites are hard for us to curb.
Feed them with a blindfold, don't look them in the eye,
What you do you have to justify.

So give nature her due, she put these things in you
And nature's ways have stood the tests of time.
(She's waiting for a sign.)

Hit it with a rock when you're in the dock,
Always keep it in a drawer.
Put it in a jar when you're in the car,
Lest you should forget the law.
Makes you wonder what it's for.

They always will be there, underneath the stairs
And any other notion is fantasy.
(These things are meant to be.)

Stamp it under foot when you're in a rut,
Never let your anger soar.
Keep it in a shed like the fella said
When he had to write the law.
Makes you wonder what it's for.