1301 lines
25 KiB
Plaintext
1301 lines
25 KiB
Plaintext
(30268) Wed 23 Dec 92 11:04p
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By: Gregory Hempel
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To: All
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Re: Bauhaus
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St: Local
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DOUBLE DARE
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I dare you, to be real,
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to touch a flickering flame,
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the pangs of dark delight
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don't cower in night fright
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Don't back away just yet
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from destination set
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I dare you to be proud
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to dare to shout aloud
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for convinctions that you feel
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like sound from bells to peal
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I dare you to speak of your despire
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for beurocracy, hypocracy - all liars
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IN THE FLAT FIELD
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A gut pull drag on me
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into the casm gaping we
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mirrors multy reflecting this
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between spunk stained sheet
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and odorous whim
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calmer eye-flick-shudder-within
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assist me to walk away in sin
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where is the string that Theseus laid
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find me out this labyrinth place
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I do get bored, I get bored
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in the flat field
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Yin and yang lumber punch
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go taste a tart then eat my lunch
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and force my slender thin and lean
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in this solemn place of fill wetting dreams
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of black matted lace of pregnant cows
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as life maps out onto my brow
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the card is lowered in index turn
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into my filling cabinet hemispheres spurn
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I do get bored, I get bored
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in the flat field
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Let me catch the slit of light
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for a maidens sake
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on a maiden flight
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in the flat field I do get bored
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replace with Piccadilly whores
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in my yearn for some cerebral fix
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transfer me to that solid plain
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hammer me into blazed pain
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moulding shapes no shame to waste
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and drag me there with deafening haste
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A GOD IN ALCOVE
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Go and look for the dejected once proud
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idol remembered in stone aloud
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then on coins his face was mirrored
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take a look it soon hath slithered
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to a fractured marble slab
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renunciation clad
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his nourishiment extract from his subjects
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that mass production profile
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He's a God-in-in an alcove
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Once he spread the rain
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so they dreamt in vain
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once he spread the wheat
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had made garlands for his feet
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until the lily poet of our times
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horizoned on the line
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love became the in theme then
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opposing fakers thrice by ten
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don't perceive his empty plea
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that redundant effigy
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He's a God-in-in an alcove
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Take in view his empty stool
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what's left in satin cool
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clawing adornment for his crimes
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they saw they had to draw the line
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so they sent him far away
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to a little alcove
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all alone
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He's a God, a God
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Now I am silly
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silly, silly, silly, silly
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DIVE
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We're going down
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to the kamikazi dive
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Fishnet leatherette
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Pussy Galore
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pseudo sumo wrestler
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on the door
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dangerous dances
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the dragons claw
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K-Tel oriental
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the monkey's paw
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You're a dead ringer
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for Madame Butterfly
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snappy little fingers
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stitch my thigh
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you're so necromantic
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venomous and vain
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mixing molotov cocktails
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in the subterrain
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We're going down
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to the kamikazi dive
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like insects in a Chinese lantern now
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we're feeling so alive, what's showing?
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We're going down
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to the kamikazi dive
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like manic moths in Chinese lanterns now
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we're feeling so alive, what's showing?
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THE SPY IN THE CAB
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Hidden in the dashboard
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the unseen mechanized eye
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under surveylance
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the road is full of cats eyes
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it's sick function to pry
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the spy in the cab
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Coldly observing-calously reserving
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a drivers time
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automated autonomy
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playing on his mind
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the spy in the cab
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The spy in the cab
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An eye for an eye
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a spy for an eye
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an eye for an eye
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a spy for a spy
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A twenty four hour unblinking watch
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installed to pry
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installed to cop
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the spy in the cab
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I spy with my little eye
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SMALL TALK STINKS
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Small talk stinks
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see the young man in his new gown
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talking up to his boufant drag
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he says he loves you with flowers
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something that he's never had
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a sentence should be like a serpent
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quick with a sting in its tail
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string me a line that has meaning and depth
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there's no small talk with walky talkies
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small talks stinks
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I said it stinks
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small talk stinks
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You whisper sweet nothing
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chit-chat back-chat
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there's no idle gossip in brail
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taking combs three times a day
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twice an hour
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identikit cute lips from wall to wall
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stand in line for the photo call
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see the young man in his new gown
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talking up to his boufant drag
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small talk stinks
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ST. VITUS DANCE
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Back in the good old days
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when dancing meant exploding
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the idea was simple
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for a decent overloading
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and for a multiple flash
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with no chords attached
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he came up with a more remote flash trigger
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it's connected to an accessory in his hip
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which automatically fires in perfect synchro
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but perhaps his most exciting
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development in his angle
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they call it the dance
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it's the St. Vitus dance
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such flexibility
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what an accessory
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see his soft bounce
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what flexibility
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such a soft bounce
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what an accessory
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And for special effects he has six filters
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three coloured red
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with the others pilfered
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and if you really want to know what that means
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he could throw a blue flash
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from eighty five feet
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of course you might want
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to check out your own little output
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so we devised a few simple and easy
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to crack contorsions
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so you can bump and scrape
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all the day through
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with the dance, it's the St. Vitus dance
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such flexibility, what an accessory
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such a soft bounce
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what flexibility, such a soft bounce
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check his hot shoe, feel his output
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he's a light machine, see his angle
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he's a light machine
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STIGMATA MARTYR
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In a crucifixation ecstasy
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lying cross chequed in agony
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stigmata bleed continuously
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holes in head, hands, feet,
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and weep for me
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Stigmata, oh you sordid sight
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stigmata in your splintered plight
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look to your crimson orifice
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in holy remembrance
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in scarlet bliss
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Stigmata Martyr
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NERVES
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Nerve ends tick
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in flicker book animation
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one eye's closed in fear, anticipation
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will it stay shut? Will it ever open?
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What if?
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Nerves!
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Tell tale tongues
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lick at seven senses
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brittle spittle sparks
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you are defenceless
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the fabric of dreams is ripped apart
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as you feel the twist
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of the shadowed dagger
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in your pumping heart
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Nerves
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Nerves like nylon, nerves like steel
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A trail of random cutlery cuts a dash
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in the concrete underpass
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sense of serenity is shattered
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in the glint of splintered glass
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Nerves
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Nerves like nylon, nerves like steel
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HAIR OF THE DOG
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The man who was mortally wonded in war
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kept on fighting
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the man who was cut to the quick by love
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kept on loving
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the man who was
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mercilessly tortured by thoughts
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kept on thinking
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the man who was crippled with concern
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kept on caring
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Hair of the dog
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hair of the dog that turned
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hair of the dog
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The man whose eyes
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were sore from obscenities
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kept on looking
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the man whose heart bled,
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killed by compassion
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kept on feeling
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the man whose legs
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buckled under exertion
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kept on running
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the man whose ears burned
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with the sound of his own name
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kept on listening
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Hair of the dog
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hair of the dog that turned
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hair of the dog
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THE PASSION OF LOVERS
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She had nut painted arms
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that were hers to keep
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and in her fear
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she sought cracked pleasures
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the pasion of lovers
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is for death said she
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licked her lips
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and turned to feather
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And as I watched from underneath
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I came aware of all that she keep
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the little foxes so safe and sound
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they were not dead
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they'd gone to ground
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The passion of lovers
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is for death said she
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the passion of lovers is for death
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She breaks her heart
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just a little too much
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and her jokes attract
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the lucky bad type
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as she dips and wails
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and slips her banshee smile
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she gets the better
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of the bigger to the letter
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The passion of lovers
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is for death said she
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the passion of lovers is for death
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OF LILLIES AND REMAINS
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In the marbled reception hall,
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I received a three band gold ring,
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from Mark, a token of esteem,
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running through ghost closet locker rooms,
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to hide from Peter, who has fallen
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to the old cold stone floor,
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wheezing and emitting a seemingly
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endless flow of ectoplasmic white goo
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from ears and mouth
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a wind rushes through hall,
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whistles as it breezes through the narrow
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slits in the green locker doors,
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I hide in one of these, No. 13
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barely concealed but hopeful
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blackout
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blackout!
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I will climb this high wall
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in remembrance of Clancy
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to regain or re-earn my life
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as I died just a flicker of an eyelid ago,
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the wall has many holes
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and many foot pieces to fasten to
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the wall is dangerous, and this is my penance
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my penance and my task
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I did it once and they wondered
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yet I need to go, once more around
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up breathtakingly
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across rigidly
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down easily - and foolishly
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I endeavoured again
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to climb the wall in vain
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and capture back my chain
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of lillies and remains...
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DANCING
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Dancing on hot tiles
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dancing on tender-hooks
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dancing down church aisles
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dancing on holy books
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dancing on crocodiles
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dancing on hallowed ground
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dancing Nyinsky style
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dancing with the lost and found
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Dancing on rock'n'roll's grave
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dancing on burning coals
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dancing on 'Jesus saves'
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dancing with old scratch soul
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dancing on flick knives
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dancing a stiletto groove
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dancing our nine lives away
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dancing in the Louvre
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Dancing in catacombs
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dancing in tuxedo dtag
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dancing in dark rooms
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dancing on all your flags
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dancing in the Vatican
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dancing on the papal gown
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dancing on the taxman
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dancing on the crown
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We're dancing
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to the dark side of this tune
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HOLLOW HILLS
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Ancient earth work, fort and barrow
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discreetly hide their secret abodes
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the most fearful hide deep inside
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and venture not there upon yuletide
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For invasion of their hollow hills
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that music hold, and Oberon fill
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is surely recommended not
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for fear of death, in fear of rot
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hollow hills, hollow hilis
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Baleful sounds and wild voices ignored
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ill luck luck, disaster, the one reward
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violated sanctity of supermen's hills
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so sad, love lies there still
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so sad - so sad
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hollow hills, hollow hills
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witches too, and goblin too
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and speckled sills
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lament, repent, oh mortal you
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so sad, so sad fade!...
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KICK IN THE EYE
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And he spoke of pastures green
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I was never told why
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each journey lasts an age
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and my throat feels dry
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it must be the lesson
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hidden deep inside
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it must be the lesson
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so roll the tide
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So I began the crossing
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my throat burned dry
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searching for satori
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the kick in the eye
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I am the end of reproduction
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given no direction
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every care is taken
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in my rejection
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Kick in the eye
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Every care is taken
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with my rejection
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and my abduction
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to my addiction
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every care is taken
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with my protection
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and my abduction
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from my addiction
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Kick in the eye
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IN FEAR OF FEAR
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You fear the lesson
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and fear to walk
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and fear to pass on
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you fear to talk
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The teacher was feared
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your parents too
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then you became
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the fear of you
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Look to yourself
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climb over the wall
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and see behind
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that you're not so small
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then you won't blame fear
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when competing's too much
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as you fall on your back
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as you fail to touch
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And I say to you
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when your fear is strong
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when you fear your life
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then your fear is wrong
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set free your past
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so shredding the skin
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then you won't fear
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the fear of sin
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Fear
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MUSCLE IN PLASTIC
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Be like a dog
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lay flat on my back
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pull my feet off the ground
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let my head hit the sack
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I'm muscle in plastic
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Nyjinski's bad move
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just a white show piece
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l've got nothing to lose
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I preach for the praise
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can't laugh so I gaze
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like a bad offset
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l'm just counting the days
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l'm a muscle in plastic...
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Sonar blips on my arms
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my head's increased
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just a hotel inmate
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l'm the lover deceased
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l'm the latent impression of dancer's leg
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I like faking persuasion
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and laying my bed
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l'm a muscle in plastic...
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THE MAN WITH X-RAY EYES
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Shoes that no man would want to wear
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wipe away the night's last cold stare
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red fist curled round the house
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wash away boy shelly's shoes
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(wash)
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Chocolate power is so crisp
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the atomic open house is really here
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and we have gone so desperate
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your power knows no bounds
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and heavier with time
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are our shoes
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that no man would want to wear
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new tread wipes a wet road so dry
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- it stings
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Into the borrowed course
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under the dreadful birds
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under the singing soil
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and all those guilty clouds
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I have seen too much
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wipe away my eyes
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too much
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MASK
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The man of shadows thinks in clay
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dreamed trapped thoughts
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of suffocation day
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he's seen in iron environments
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with plastic sweat
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out of chiselled slits for eyes
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From the growth
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underneath the closed mouth
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you'll catch it you listen
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rack trapped cubist vowels
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from a dummy head expression
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from a dummy head expression
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The transformation is invested
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the mysterious and the shameful
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while the thing I am
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becomes something else
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part character part sensation
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The shadow is cast
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etc...
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THIRD UNCLE
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(Brian Eno)
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There are tins
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there was pork
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there are legs
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there are sharks
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there was John
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there are cliffs
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there was mother
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there's a poker
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there was you
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then there was you
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There are scenes
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there are blues
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there are boots
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there are shoes
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there are Turks
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there are fools
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they're in lockers
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they're in schools
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they're in you
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then there was you
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Burn my fingers
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burn my toes
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burn my uncle
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burn his books
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burn his shoes
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cook the leather
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put it on me
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does it fit me
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or you
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it looks tight on you
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SILENT HEDGES
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Following the silent hedges
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needing some other kind of madness
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looking into purple eyes
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sadness at the corners
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works of art with a minimum of steel
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Pure sensation
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the beautiful down grade
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going to hell again
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Self confidence leaks
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from a thousand wounds
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faults to civilisation
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burning the private paradise of dreams
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minus hands of the electric clock
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Pure sensation
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the beautiful down grade
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going to hell again
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going to hell again
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again
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SILENT HEDGES
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|
Following the silent hedges
|
|
needing some other kind of madness
|
|
looking into purple eyes
|
|
sadness at the corners
|
|
works of art with a minimum of steel
|
|
|
|
Pure sensation
|
|
the beautiful down grade
|
|
going to hell again
|
|
|
|
Self confidence leaks
|
|
from a thousand wounds
|
|
faults to civilisation
|
|
burning the private paradise of dreams
|
|
minus hands of the electric clock
|
|
|
|
Pure sensation
|
|
the beautiful down grade
|
|
going to hell again
|
|
going to hell again
|
|
again
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
IN THE NIGHT
|
|
|
|
In the night, in the chair
|
|
he sits there, he sits tight
|
|
no more cans, no more crime
|
|
see the place, see the time
|
|
you ever know
|
|
|
|
He walks light, don't know how
|
|
maybe now, in the night
|
|
Oh, I know, yes, I know
|
|
there's no chat
|
|
he's for show
|
|
you ever know
|
|
|
|
Sees the place and tries to get the time
|
|
he's slowly slipping into the slime
|
|
can't inject into his veins
|
|
blood and guff ooze out and stain
|
|
cares not that he really bleeds
|
|
death not hell is what he needs
|
|
sees the place, checks the time
|
|
some other place, some other time
|
|
you never know
|
|
|
|
Slipping up and down his writhing side
|
|
his eyes begin to ponder pride
|
|
subjective pics of misled youth
|
|
before him lies the dreadful truth
|
|
'undignified' 'insignified'
|
|
his wrist on to the razor slides
|
|
you never know
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
SWING THE HEARTACHE
|
|
|
|
Out of her mouth it came as no surprise
|
|
lipstick stained on whipcream lies
|
|
I feel that if I had been uglier
|
|
it would have been easier
|
|
|
|
There it sat, blinked and spat
|
|
in a black feather hat
|
|
and said 'The Rat'
|
|
(I now possess quasi success)
|
|
|
|
But she was to be a better singer
|
|
swing the heartache
|
|
just for her sake
|
|
|
|
SPIRIT
|
|
|
|
Tonight I could be with you
|
|
or waiting in the wings
|
|
lift your heart with soaring song
|
|
cut down the puppet strings
|
|
|
|
I wear a coat of drums
|
|
and dance upon your eyes
|
|
turn the tables upside down
|
|
change the lows to highs
|
|
|
|
I fill you up with butterflies
|
|
crown the heads of kings
|
|
be glad of first night nerves
|
|
for fear gives courage wings
|
|
|
|
If I am on the sidelines
|
|
chances are you'll miss
|
|
wait alone and spotlit
|
|
for doctor theatre's kiss
|
|
|
|
The stage becomes a ship in flames
|
|
I tie you to the mast
|
|
throw your body overboard
|
|
the spotiight doesn't last
|
|
I could be with you
|
|
or waiting in the wings
|
|
lift your heart with soaring song
|
|
cut down the puppet strings
|
|
|
|
I may tap you on the shoulder
|
|
and whisper 'go' in red
|
|
strip your feet of lead my friend
|
|
|
|
Call the curtain
|
|
raise the roof
|
|
spirits on tonight
|
|
|
|
We love our audience
|
|
|
|
|
|
THE THREE SHADOWS (part II)
|
|
|
|
Oh classic gentlemen
|
|
say your prayers
|
|
to the wind of prostitution
|
|
to your faces, and rex complexes
|
|
riddle my breast
|
|
full of the oppressed puss
|
|
|
|
O gentlemen, with your fish
|
|
that you surround, all around
|
|
and you man, will always point
|
|
your fishes, at me
|
|
|
|
But I will always exist
|
|
because I always exist
|
|
damn good too
|
|
|
|
The rat race begins
|
|
the fat face stings
|
|
I hold the fresh pink baby
|
|
with a smile
|
|
I slice off those rosy cheeks
|
|
because I feel so thirsty
|
|
|
|
and Oedipus rex complexes...
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
THE THREE SHADOWS (part III)
|
|
|
|
O gentlemen
|
|
swallow your prayers
|
|
because the wind makes a mockery of men
|
|
your soul become a fish
|
|
you swim in idle waters
|
|
and drink other fishes piss
|
|
your soul feeds on fish
|
|
on piss, puss and men
|
|
who in turn,
|
|
become as you have become
|
|
a fish
|
|
no, not even that,
|
|
but a symbol of fish
|
|
hooked by the baby flesh of maggots
|
|
a ripple of life in tin
|
|
this tin could become your world too
|
|
so choose between this and water
|
|
choose between tin and piss
|
|
do you still feel thirsty now
|
|
are you thirsty now
|
|
are you thirsty now
|
|
do you still feel
|
|
thirsty
|
|
thirsty now...
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
ALL WE EVER WANTED WAS EVERYTHING
|
|
|
|
All we ever wanted was everything
|
|
all we ever got was cold
|
|
get up, eat jelly
|
|
sandwich bars, and barbed wire
|
|
squash every week into a day
|
|
|
|
The sound of drums is calling
|
|
the sound of the drum has called
|
|
flash of youth shoot out of darkness...
|
|
factorytown
|
|
|
|
Oh to be the cream
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
EXQUISITE CORPSE
|
|
|
|
Life is but a dream
|
|
I make the air fall apart
|
|
around me
|
|
now as the petals are no more
|
|
a corroding, shrinking stalk remains
|
|
bereft of his blooms
|
|
and the ultimate cruelty of loves pinions
|
|
beset his appearance
|
|
no king could replenish his state
|
|
now browning, sinking, dying
|
|
a thousand deaths
|
|
|
|
Terry sat up
|
|
and hugged the army surplus bag
|
|
around his skinny waist
|
|
it was cold
|
|
and the person beside him has failed badly
|
|
legs apart his eyes lit up
|
|
the sky's gone out - the sky, the sky -
|
|
the sky's gone out
|
|
|
|
Zzzzzzzzzz!
|
|
|
|
The sky's gone out
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
SHE'S IN PARTIES
|
|
|
|
Learning lines in the rain
|
|
special effect by loonatik & drinks
|
|
the graveyard scene
|
|
the golden years
|
|
|
|
She's in parties
|
|
it's in the can
|
|
|
|
Freeze frame screen kiss
|
|
hot heads under silent wigs
|
|
fall guy's tumble on the cutting room floor
|
|
look-a-likes fall on the cutting room door
|
|
|
|
She's in parties...
|
|
|
|
Learning lines in the rain
|
|
special effects by loonatik & drinks
|
|
freeze frame screen kiss,
|
|
hot heads, lightsand powder,
|
|
it's patently obvious
|
|
|
|
She's in parties...
|
|
|
|
Hot lines under a rain of drums
|
|
cigarette props in action
|
|
dialogue dub, now here's the rub
|
|
she's acting her reaction
|
|
|
|
She's in parties...
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
ANTONIN ARTAUD
|
|
|
|
The young man held a gun to the head of God
|
|
stick this holy cow
|
|
put the audience in action
|
|
let the slaughtered take a bow
|
|
|
|
The old man's words, white hot knives
|
|
slicing through worm butter
|
|
the butter is the heart
|
|
the rancid pealing soul
|
|
|
|
Scratch pictures on asylum walls
|
|
broken nails and match sticks
|
|
hypodermic hypodermic hypodermic
|
|
red fix
|
|
|
|
One man's poison is another man's meat
|
|
one man's agony another man's treat
|
|
Artaud lived with his neck placed
|
|
properly in the noose
|
|
eyes black with pain
|
|
limbs in vamps, contorted
|
|
the theatre and its double
|
|
the void and the aborted
|
|
|
|
Those Indians wank on his bones
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
KING VOLCANO
|
|
|
|
Overshadowed by her sister
|
|
pretty girl would screem
|
|
|
|
King Volcano gave me numbers
|
|
King Volcano is clean
|
|
|
|
Lonely people burn like candles
|
|
only we are clean
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
WHO KILLED MR. MOONLIGHT
|
|
|
|
Consider green lakes
|
|
and the idiocy of clocks
|
|
someone shot nostalgia in the back
|
|
someone shot our innocence
|
|
|
|
A broken arrow in a bloody pool
|
|
the wound in the face
|
|
of Midnight proposals
|
|
someone shot nostalgia in the back
|
|
someone shot our innocence
|
|
|
|
In the shadow of his smile
|
|
|
|
All our dreams have melted down
|
|
we are hiding in the bushes
|
|
from dead men
|
|
doing Douglas Fairbanks stunts
|
|
|
|
All our stories burnt
|
|
our films lost in the rushes
|
|
we can't paint any pictures
|
|
as the moon had all our brushes
|
|
|
|
Extracting wasps from stings in flight
|
|
who killed Mr. Moonlight?
|
|
|
|
Who killed Mr. Moonlight?
|
|
in the shadow of his smile
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
SLICE OF LIFE
|
|
|
|
Her gaze hit the side of mine
|
|
so I opened it out
|
|
to destroy what you thought was difference
|
|
So I lied to you once again
|
|
so I painted over you once again
|
|
so I die before you once again
|
|
what's the difference
|
|
|
|
Come clearly where the tlavour's
|
|
seen here in black and white
|
|
you've got two seconds baby boy
|
|
in burning light white light
|
|
what's the difference
|
|
|
|
Clear up what you are
|
|
burn out these eyes
|
|
rip up this place and scream
|
|
I am your slice of life
|
|
|
|
Shivering under lamposts
|
|
shivering under glass
|
|
your standing on charisma again
|
|
God knows it cannot last
|
|
what's the difference
|
|
|
|
Ice inside your body
|
|
blood inside your soul
|
|
yet still twelve faces stand around
|
|
hugging your skinny bones
|
|
what's the difference
|
|
|
|
So clear up...
|
|
|
|
And the car opened him up to so much more
|
|
and the money is brighter with a wider smile
|
|
and the problem expands inside your head
|
|
|
|
I am your slice of life
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
HONEYMOON CROON
|
|
|
|
Honeymoon croon tonight
|
|
sew my socks tonight
|
|
I say whose on the race tonight
|
|
lurking lipstick tickle tickle
|
|
Marylin on
|
|
|
|
Send her by air mail par avion
|
|
certificate ecstasy in my head
|
|
hire out Sybill Vane for my bed
|
|
|
|
Honeymoon croon tonight...
|
|
|
|
She insists on tying down
|
|
after the soldier sator
|
|
all alone in the cathedral bar
|
|
she preys in dockland
|
|
she asks to see her hidden side
|
|
she, the colour of his money
|
|
|
|
Honeymoon croon tonight...
|
|
|
|
Marylin's fading fast better get straight
|
|
the catch from the side walk is in a state
|
|
the sound of footstep - mummy's here
|
|
l'll be her good boy, l'll never fear
|
|
better fix her drink tonight
|
|
bed times come
|
|
must be out of this urge to use my gun
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
KINGDOM'S COMING
|
|
|
|
Madness in the winds got something to say
|
|
it ripped you apart
|
|
it will always be that way
|
|
|
|
Kingdom's coming, causes chaos
|
|
will cut to pieces
|
|
the film you saw today
|
|
it's your big bad secret
|
|
your crown of thorns
|
|
you want got nothing, nothing, nothing at all
|
|
|
|
Just look back, back again
|
|
you wanted ail, but it's on the run
|
|
the sky will open soon, could be today
|
|
your kingdom's coming, coming this way
|
|
|
|
Can't take it easy now
|
|
can't turn back
|
|
forget your bastard ego
|
|
get it off your back
|
|
|
|
It's too late now
|
|
can't turn back
|
|
your kingdom came today
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
BURNING FROM THE INSIDE
|
|
|
|
Running without aim
|
|
throu the razor weeds
|
|
that only reach my knees
|
|
and when l'm lying in the grey deep
|
|
I don't know how to walk the boards
|
|
|
|
I open my eyes and look at the floor
|
|
and now I don't see you anymore
|
|
|
|
There is no choice, we make the point
|
|
to counter act, a threatening hand
|
|
close my hold
|
|
let's be near the atmosphere
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
HOPE
|
|
|
|
Your mornings will be brighter
|
|
break the line
|
|
tear up rules
|
|
make the most of a million times no
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
THE SANITY ASSASSIN
|
|
|
|
Sinister echoes clutching at straws
|
|
letterboxes screaming
|
|
you try to pin him to the wall
|
|
you end up on the ceiling
|
|
locked in a dome
|
|
the shadows flicker by
|
|
he's the mad cap pusher
|
|
delerium the drug he's dealing
|
|
|
|
He drops a capsule in your drink
|
|
and spikes your dreams with madness
|
|
|
|
He's the sniper in the hiils
|
|
hiding in the holes in your head
|
|
he's the poison in your poison
|
|
the razor in your bed
|
|
hanging on a picture
|
|
eye lid needle and thread
|
|
you empty yourself once again
|
|
he's always one step ahead
|
|
was it whispers in your ear
|
|
nothing that you said?
|
|
he's walking in your sleep now
|
|
he keeps your fat paranoia well fed
|
|
|
|
He drops a capsule...
|
|
|
|
The sanity assassin
|
|
stays up allnight stalking
|
|
the sanity assassin
|
|
picks of victims like flys
|
|
the sanity assassin
|
|
let his fingers do the walking
|
|
the sanity assassin
|
|
the crack shot between your eyes
|
|
he's got you in his sights
|
|
|
|
He drops a capsule...
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
DARK ENTRIES
|
|
|
|
Caressing bent up to the jug again
|
|
with sheaths and pills
|
|
invading all those stills
|
|
in a hovel of a bed
|
|
I will scream in vain
|
|
oh please mill lane
|
|
leave me with some pain
|
|
went walking through this city's neon light
|
|
in fear of disguising my warping seathing
|
|
pressure lines and graceless heirs
|
|
intangible of price
|
|
trying so hard to find what? What was right
|
|
I came upon your room it stuck into my head
|
|
we leapt into the bed degrading even lice
|
|
you took delight in taking down
|
|
all my shielded pride
|
|
until exposed became my darker side
|
|
puckering up and down some avenue of sin
|
|
too cheap to ride they're worth a try
|
|
if only for the old times cold times
|
|
don't go waving your pretentious love
|
|
he's soliciting on his tan brown brogues
|
|
girating through some lonesome devils row
|
|
pinpointing well meaning
|
|
upper class prey
|
|
of walking money checks possessing holes
|
|
he often sleekly offers his services
|
|
exploitation of his finer years
|
|
work with loosely woven fabrics
|
|
of lonely offices clerks
|
|
any lay suffices
|
|
his dollar green eye
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
BELA LUGOSI'S DEAD
|
|
|
|
White on white translucent black capes
|
|
back on the back
|
|
Bela Lugosi's dead
|
|
the bats have left the bell tower
|
|
the victims have been bled
|
|
red velvet lines the black box
|
|
Bela Lugosi's dead
|
|
undead undead undead
|
|
the virginal brides file past his tomb
|
|
strewn with time's dead flowers
|
|
bereft in deathly bloom
|
|
alone in a darkened room
|
|
the Count Bela Lugosi's dead
|
|
undead undead undead
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
TERROR COUPLE KILL COLONEL
|
|
|
|
His eyes were heavy
|
|
he carried a card
|
|
one couple questioned
|
|
the other discharged
|
|
terror couple kill colonel
|
|
in his West Germany house
|
|
|
|
shots from three feet
|
|
dragged himself to the phone
|
|
terror couple kill colonel
|
|
and has he lay there
|
|
playin' games with his pain
|
|
the felt his choice of job
|
|
was such a mistake
|
|
he could have been a doctor
|
|
in a soft easy chair
|
|
instead he choose three stars
|
|
a territorial affair
|
|
terror couple kill colonel
|
|
|
|
in his West Germany house
|
|
|
|
SCOPES
|
|
|
|
Scopes
|
|
electroscopes
|
|
galvanoscopes
|
|
hydroscope
|
|
polemescope
|
|
telescope
|
|
microscope
|
|
sizemoscope
|
|
periscope
|
|
polariscope
|
|
kaleidoscope
|
|
stethoscope
|
|
the twenty scopes
|
|
|
|
---
|
|
* Origin: (1:130/603)
|
|
|
|
|
|
|