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You haven't found it yet,Haven't found it yet.Look at the glass, turn your headYou haven't found it yet.Murmur down the line, insideIt's flashy Camden TownIt's that London lyric againYou haven't found it yet.Impulses crowd your headToo much to be absorbedYou're into the jackal mentalSaw down of your head.*Which bemoans a simple fact.You haven't found it yet.It seemed so clear in bedIt starts with your legs, they are dead Your pen is entombed in mattressYou're not going to get it yetYou haven't found it yetYou're dying but still warmPut this writing on your tombSpit out your dying breathYou haven't found it yet.I dictateTranscribeRelationsDear CousinIt's destiny.[mumbling at end.][ MES explains this lyric in a Q magazine article: He was referring to ascientific diagram of the head and its component parts. --Ed.]