You haven't found it yet, Haven't found it yet. Look at the glass, turn your head You haven't found it yet. Moving down the lane inside It's flashy Camden Town It's that London lyric again You haven't found it yet. Impulses crowd your head Too much to be absorbed You're into the top shackle Mental saw-down of your head.* Which bemoans a simple fact. You haven't found it yet. It seemed so clear in bed It's dark but your legs, they are dead Your pen is encombed in mattress You're not going to get it yet You haven't found it yet You're dying but still warm Put this writing on your tomb Spit out with dying breath You haven't found it yet. I dictate Transcribe Relations Dear Cousin It's destiny. The grist that curtails the mill shall make us strong