to which you madly danced - frankly, you know that it stinks.
until your body's rigid and you see stars.
if the guitar don't get ya, the drums will.
bang your feet in a rage, tear down the walls and let us out!
Smash the system with the song!
I didn't know quite what to say.
but I knew that I blew it somehow.
I had to open my eyes.
before I'd even had time to take a bow.
but I really opened her eyes.
there really are no more.
if we only open our eyes.
and tell me what's covert, transfixing you.
and gone are all the clothes that you've worn.
but they all seem so lost, so dead, out of phase.
that's before it was her fortune and took over her soul's place.
when I wake up at night.
that's if I ever knew.
about the latest fashions for their clothes.
a song that none of them have ever known.
in constant masque and pageant, constant flight.
of passion which is hotter yet than white.
condemned to martyrdom, but not to die.
Two lovers look up from their hidden bower.
The wine has stood too long and it turns sour.
which ensures I must stay.
look at the sea, it holds nothing but despair.
I look to my side, but you're not there.
no, no, no, no, I just can't get you from my mind.
that's taking you so far away.
and no longer see your face.
All I can now cry is goodbye, love, goodbye.
in a lifetime how I'll feel none can tell.
there's really no-one here to help.
and walking on the tarmac.
and cannot bear to look back, can you?
my eyes too dimmed by distance to cry.
she sits there, just staring.
is so bad you can't bear it.
the gas tap on, they're all dead.
half-naked on your unmade bed.
and you cannot feel a portion of the world outside.
and the doctor says you're dying?
to someone else and not I.
that you hear every day.
now all the rooms of the party are dark.
like Hansel and Gretel never had.
"I understand profit and without that, it's no use.
come back in three years, that shouldn't be too long..."
if we can beat that out of them I see a disc of gold!
how about as nervous wrecks?"
while the band sip English lager just outside the door.
through all the propagated lies about what the whole thing's for.
drained of all you felt you had to offer at the start.
they will write about your dress.
how many dogs you've got.
but somewhere in the process, the prime purpose is forgotten.
it's all very jolly - what a joke!
to the bump and grind of a Fender bass.
when it's the other way that's right.
and his fire gimmick was simply the best.
ten thousand peace signs mark the entry of the sax.
but they're different from the back.