I am the small town linesman
And you'll find me out here on the line
Searching ceaselessly to simply
Find a place I can call mine

Every corner of this country
Criss-crossed out with colored lines
The city lies before me
Another city sprawling out behind

Since the scramble ended
Since the west was won with wagon trails
It seems the Mazzini's paradisaical
Panopticon prevailed

My walk abouts no longer take me
Beyond a choice of different goals
Why should I have to choose a state
When every one of them has failed?

I am a frontiersman
Trapped in suburban England
And I promise not to overthrow the state
If allowed to redraw the atlas before I emigrate

So I have sailed the seven seas alone
Trying to find a shore I can call home
But all I found are different flags
Double speaking diplomats and
I do not have time for that

So I'll declare my own sovereign state
The borders based on the
Bottoms of my boots

And I will open emb***ies
Wherever the hell I please
And at ***emblies
You will see me sat
But never on my knees

And I'd gladly leave your
Metternich's alone as long as where
I lay my head, I can be my very own

I am the Winchester lineman
I am a frontiersman
Trapped in suburban England
But here I will not remain

I'll ride into the sunset
My horse waits on the plain
And I keep walking the line