1. |
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"How can we save your soul, childe of clay ?
Are you washed in the blood of the lamb ?
Lay aside the garments that are stained with sin !
Plunge now in that sacred crimson flood !
Opposing the wrong, the Salvation Army is marching along ! "
...
" I was walking by Gipsy hill, when, suddenly,
I saw the eyes of the Evil staring at me !
The filth of Guilt striking into my eyes !
How can I tell, how can I explain !
I saw a tea pot flying in the sky,
laying angel's eggs in the grime,
and snory chickens hatched all night,
there's a dim in my mind, of a gong echoing by "
...
" There's nothing new upon the earth my son,
all knoledge is but rememberance,
We want another Pentecost !
Send the fire today !
Be all Doubts washed away !
Praise our Lord, hear his rhymes, hold on the line "
...
YELLOW PAGES ( flick through the announcments ! )
THUMBED THROUGH AGES ( lift off your garments ! )
LET YOUR FINGERS - BE INSPIRED
YELLOW PAGES ( thy health and Salvation ! )
PRAISED FOR AGES ( shake off thy hesitation ! )
STAND NO LONGER - IDLY BY
...
Time for the enlisting could pass today,
Don't let it absently fly away,
You'll find an answer in every page.
If the Dobts stings, hold on to their wings,
Let the flow, hear their rhymes, hold the line.
...
YELLOW PAGES ( flick through the announcments ! )
THUMBED THROUGH AGES ( lift off your garments ! )
LET YOUR FINGERS - BE INSPIRED
YELLOW PAGES ( thy health and Salvation ! )
PRAISED FOR AGES ( shake off thy hesitation ! )
STAND NO LONGER - IDLY BY "
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2. |
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Yellow's the brightest colour in the rainbow.
Yellow are Van Gog's mustard fields, that sway so mellow.
Yellow's the ravishing laughter of youth,
Dancing all night under silvery moons in june.
...
YELLOW - it's bright !
YELLOW - it's fun !
YELLOW - the colour of my favourite junk !
...
Yellow are the princesses dress in Swaziland,
Staring at her you might become a Camambert !
She adores riding giraffes at dusk,
but in the morning she feeds baby-chick in Notre-Dame.
...
WISH - I could be
LIKE - a sunflower
TALLER - and brighter
THAN - Mick Jagger !
...
Yellow are the cats climbing higher in the trees,
Seecking to catch a canary, or just a bee.
There they will stay regardless the prays,
and won't come down, unless a reward awaits them on the ground.
...
YELLOW - it's bright !
YELLOW - it's fun !
YELLOW - the colour of my favourite scarf !
...
Yellow's the colour of this tune for which is due.
Spreding all sorts of crunchy crabs in the lagoon.
Gliding across a sea of gold,
it might knock nightly at your chamber door.
...
WISH - I could be
LIKE - a sunflower
TALLER - and brighter
THAN - Mick Jagger !
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3. |
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4. |
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" What wouldst thou, childe of cly.
Our mantle clouds your lampshade.
We shall imbue your ideal, with all sorts of ordeals.
Wring out the ground, and lay down.
Breath the ash spred around "
( Band karo, kee laanat hai ! )
" Stains alive, mites that bite,
Stains that slive, staying alive "
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5. |
Tea and wine
04:55
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" Late at night, grasping my teapot, drinking tea and wine.
Broadcasting from a small local radio: -Slighly all the time-.
My mind goes circling round; flatters within rhymes.
Flipping through mosaics of faces, hubbub in my mind.
Chirpy tweets, as if they were golf balls, clogged in the drain.
It can be quite a laugh, screwing up your mind.
Please don't phone me now.
Please don't ask me how.
Let me spend my time,
drinking tea and wine,
( On sunday they shut down the town.
On monday they, soar weep and shout.
On tuesday they, will just try out,
what happens to the madding crowd ).
The latest news from a television breakes the peace of night.
Squeaky talks, maddenig tussles, scrumble into my eyes.
Just drops of balderdash, falling from the sky
Please don't phone me now.
Please don't ask me how,
Let me spend my time,
drinkig tea and wine ".
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6. |
Posh darts
04:16
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" Is it the way you walk ?
Is it the way you talk ?
Is it the way you smoke ?
But you aren't good for me.
Is it your creamy lips ?
Is it your lilac wrist ?
You're such a summer risk !
But you aren't good for me.
Claims from some left behind shrugged theme,
in a "lost&found" corbellery,
rumbling notes, passing by.
Close your eyes and hear the stream,
of this shredded theme in a stiff flat-E
Is it your "allure" chic, in spite of fish and chips ?
There's ketchup on my feet !
You're such a fool for me.
Is it your posing posh,
on your velvet gloves,
no matter the "tartare",
You're such a fool for me
Scraps of a mini moog's oddities,
in a Jupiter's prophet tree,
125 Juno's rides.
Press a key and slide aside,
your fever of greed, such a waste for themes.
Is it your Chelsea loft,
where sofas are so soft ?
All those canary dots ...
but you aren't good to me.
Is it your racing car ?
Is it your green Cézanne ?
Still hanging upside down,
But you aren't good to me. "
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7. |
I wonder why
03:04
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"I wonder why, you left me here outside,
amidst the dogs barking.
I wonder why, you locked the door from the inside,
as black clouds thicken.
I wonder why, you won't let me inside,
and the tide keeps rising.
I wonder whether something broke between the two of us.
that brown sauce all over your brand new bra.
Tacky beans on toast never encouraged you,
to dance cheek to cheek ( with me ).
Canned ravioli might not seem the top of dainties,
but that's where Andy Warhol come from !
The happiest days of our youth,
sneaking into TESCO's loo ( with you ).
I wonder why, you let me freeze outside,
amidst the toads hopping,
the bats flicking
( nearby )
I wonder why, you let me here all night, amidst
the owls hooting,
the crows croacking,
the wolves howling
( all around )"
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8. |
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Half awake, half asleep,
dragged away by "closing down", "jumbo sales".
With all that odds and ends in my head,
it's amazing I got still out of bed.
Bargain shelves, clearance rails,
swarms of trollies knocking down boxing day,
"big meal deal" announced with despair:
"extra.cut-price, free-range-eggs, camel legs !"
(...)
Matching moles dig in the Mall,
caravans of tweed delivered by kings and queens.
Climbing down the chimneys in june
Mighty mice chase Littlewoods puss in boots !
Shopping list sung in rhymes,
frantic queues run crackling like barbecues,
"all must go" announced in despair:
"flip-flop snuff box, Jeff Wayne's socks, still in stock !"
(...)
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9. |
Introducing side B
00:46
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10. |
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" Sometimes you're hot, sometimes you're cold,
before my time you're making me old,
keeping and eye on you putting your's on me.
You're snicking behind my hat, are you really proud of that ?
I don't know why you care, at least there is something in there.
You hit me where it hurts, and I don't feel glad for you,
You hit me where it hurts, like that cow in the Tate's main room,
You hit me where it's worse, in the centre of my gloom,
Oh my Lord, you kick like Damien Hirst.
You'll drive me mad, you'll make me cry,
You'll never change but you say you will try,
but I have the feeling you'll never gonna mend your way.
It's late now to break free, you got me where you want me to be,
there's no way trying to escape, I cope with my biggest mistake
You hit me where it hurts, and I don't feel glad for you,
You hit me where it hurts, like that cow in the Tate's main room,
You hit me where it's worse, in the centre of my gloom,
Oh my Lord, you kick like Damien Hirst. "
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11. |
One man show
04:08
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I'm just a dreamer clutching dreams / I know
Just like a puppet / I'm a one man show
Travel up and down the land I'm / playing every night
Please stand up and see me now / I'll try and sing it right , tonight .
I'm coming home, coming home, coming home to you my friend.
Just one more party then I'll / have to go
Don’t need no time for thinking / curtain falls
As I strike the last chord in my / repertoire.
I get to think that it’s / gone way too far , too far
I'm coming home, coming home, coming home to you my friend.
.
Will you be - waiting - for me there .
Have you still - got your - long brown hair .
Can the door be open - or only ajar.
Look for me darling - now I'm a star .
As I knock on the door / it’s all in vain
The welcome Mat has faded / with the rain
The house is empty now / it gives me such a blow
As I turn around I'm / back on the road , the road .
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12. |
Hanging on
05:23
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" Hanging on, by the tips of my fingers,
As I'm trapped inside this long convoy,
And while it's speeding up, for one more time,
My soul fades away such as burnt coil.
I'm hanging on, by the tips of my fingers,
When I pass her by, she's not aware,
That when she gets off at her usual stop,
My soul fades away such as burnt coil.
Hanging on, by the tips of my fingers,
Like a slumming door, wedged between two stops,
How can I hold on, from station to station, in my isolation,
While blowing on my fingers... hanging on
I'm hanging on, by the tips of my fingers,
In the hazy twist of a nightly trip,
Between lustful cheers, and drunken jeers,
Her eyes slip away from mine once more
Hanging on, by the tips of my fingers,
Like a slumming door, wedged between two stops,
How can I hold on, don't you think that I'm lonely ?
Would you say I'm not lonely ?
By the tips of my fingers... hanging on "
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13. |
Arezzo waves
01:20
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" So, we're on stage, should we dive in the Arezzo waves ?
We hope that the audience won't drown all of us it the Thames..
The devil himself waves his tale smirking in the backstage.
Let's hope that the jury won't kick all pf us till Brisbane! "
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14. |
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15. |
Blame not my lute
04:36
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From Sir Thomas Wyatt ballad
" Now cease my lute,
this is the last labour that thou and I shall waste;
and ended is that is begun."
"Blame not my Lute !
Though my songs be somewhat strange,
And speak such words as touch thy change.
My Lute and strings may not deny
But as I strike they must obey ;
Break not them not,
But wreak thyself some other way.
If, perchance, this foolish rhyme
make thee blush, at any time,
Blame not my Lute !
Blame but thyself that hast misdone,
Change thou thy way, so evil begun,
And then my Lute shall sound that same.
if, perchance, this sely rhyme
Do make thee blush, at any time,
Blame not my Lute !"
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16. |
Quarantine verses
01:39
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I have been awake too long,
just to sing this silly song.
Looking at the window at the trees,
I wonder if it's them watching at me ..
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17. |
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Perched upon a sluggish sky,
The sun's unwilling to shine.
As freshly snow veils what stands below,
Your prayers all drowned out by the roars of war.
Your lungs strain for a breath of air,
Your frozen feet won't allow to flee.
Your clouded eyes gaze into the void,
There your mother lies seeming like a broken doll.
Beyond the smoke that shades the dread,
All angels now are gone.
The angels have fled from Mariupol
----------------------------------------------------------------------------
Your lungs strain for breath of air,
Your frozen feet won't allow to flee.
Your clouded eyes gaze into the void,
Not a sprout will bloom from this wasteland.
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