1.Angel's Delight
A necklace of rubber, burning bright
A burning rubber necklace for my angel's delight
A holiday in a box, opportunity knocks
For the rich man's militia photographing my block
Kill a cop. why the hell not？
Yeah!! burn, motherfucker, burn!
I got a word for you： dead
Got a trampoline--your fuckin' head
You roll down my street in your gleaming new car
I've got no secrets, cash or time left to give you
But i've got something else for you, my friend
A crack in the restless night, a broken bone on the pavement
Angel's delight was a recurring statement
Burn a bailiff--spill, don't save it
Yeah!! burn, motherfucker, burn!
Run, run, run, run!
You can have what you ask, but not in cash
You can put it where your mouth used to be
You can put it where your dick used to be
What do you do when words collapse
And all that's left is broken glass？
I know, i know i'm trapped
I've got a holiday in a big oak box
With my friend, the famous pc plod, plod, plod＊
Kill a cop, kill a cop,
You lay a hand on me, i'm gonna kill you, cop.
Hey! let's all kill some cops.
Some bailiffs.
Assholes.
＊ 'pc plod' is a well known and derogatory name for a british
beat cop. it's capitalized, like 'john q. public.'
2.Mr. Baby
See the priest in gleaming nappies
Gurgling and burping child at play
Signing warrents, blessing firing squads
Are the pleasures of this baby's day
In a street where broken buildings fall
On burning people ten feet tall
On stockinged knees, not all, not all
Just those who fight in bonfire light
In spite of all the crowds who call
Their hero, a goldfish jockey
Their hero remains mr. baby
Mr. baby spills it by the ton
He wraps his mouth around his gun
He says, 'scared？ you're not the only one.'
Did they raise their fists to greet you all
When they saw the colour of your skin？
Did they laugh and say 'go home'
When you told them of the trouble you were in？
You know they did
(god is an arms dealer.)
Your complaint is my mandate
And your shoulders are my ladder (straight)
What they cannot defuse they must excuse
And what they must allow they soon will bow to
And they will kneel
They will kneel to mr. baby
Oh, you really slay me
Mr. baby in the burning bushfire
Basement by the crater brook
Reads from his ancient hate-book
Your own, your own mr. baby
Baby, baby, baby, don't treat me mean now
Don't bang your head...
3.The Door-to-door Inspector
The door-to-door inspector, his knuckles bare and white,
Is rapping on your window
'cause he knows you're hiding here tonight
He's travelled from the city to your country slum
Under rain and black clouds
And the burnt-out silver sun
He'll drop you where you stand
Lift the roof with his bare hands
And hand you down his just demands
As you huddle in your tiny corner
The door-to-door inspector now sits to eat his lunch
He scowls at last week's paper
In the worker's cafe, hushed
You made your choice whan mocking the ways of true grown men
Now may your woman-love protect you
As you face this grevious punishment you've earned
He'll drop you where you stand
Then journey home to wash those hands
And to his bed he'll trembling go
Passion not spent, a man alone
(with his hand)
4.You're A Rose
This is mister blank calling, gorgeous
From the slum which time ignores
Where folks use razor blades for toothpaste
And every breath is a holy war
Were you sleeping？ do you hate me？
I've been dozing in the midnight sun
And i've solved all of my problems
Making the many into one
The good times are all over
I don't care, it seems i missed them
But i miss your smile, your laugh, your snore,
Your fond contempt, your faithful rage
You're a rose
You're a rose in a crown of thorns
You don't mind the queues, the burning trains
The squalid, mute despair
You don't mind deceiving lovers
You ignore the stinking air
Well, now accept you're just a person
Not the touchstone, not the face
Of the ages past, their grandeur
And the death-wish of the master race
The dawn sky is getting bleaker
Our demise could not be neater
And your face hangs down before me now
Like a rootless flame; in awe i stare
You're a rose
On fire
You're a rose in a crown of thorns
Well, i think you'd better hang up on the jerk
It's been too long, too long, too long
From now on there's only gonna be one way
One way traffic now
The door is open, the door is open wide cos i said so...
5.Thursday
The windows watch me wait for you
Mirror mirror, mirror mirror
I've seen a world beyond their view
Mirror mirror, mirror mirror
Of course the night times are the worst
Of course i burn with an evil burst
You exist so i am cursed
Mirror mirror, mirror mirror
Mirror mirror, mirror mirror
I'll be good 'till thursday comes
The world will think i never had
An idea that could drive me mad
I'll be good 'till thursday comes
Then burn all good away
I weed my house, i wash my trees
Mirror mirror, mirror mirror
I cross my legs in front of me
Mirror mirror, mirror mirror
I tingle at the thought of you
Is this what the humans do？
My childish words just don't ring true
See ya later, great dictator
I'll be good 'till thursday comes
Well, unless i am misleading you
You shine me up and make me new
I'll be good 'till thursday comes
And wish i never did say
I'll be good 'till thursday comes
It's such a lot of fun
To watch the liar i've become
But i'll be good 'till thursday comes
And burn all good away
Ahh....dream of this, my lover
Ahh....dream of this, my lover
I am your lover now
6.Ceaucescu Flashback
7.Broken Radio #1
At the platform's end, where the crowd grew thin
And the light was dim on our shoes
Where we sat there so tense,
Not to touch though we meant to (i think)
There was no will, no spell
To breach the night and stop the talk
She tossed her hair and home did walk
Broken radio
Broken radio
On the day that i was born
There was no big flash and no great storm
But the man read the news in dutch and warned,
'i'm gonna play 'je t'aime' on my hunting horn.'
In my cradle i was most impressed--
So this is what you call success
Black seamus cried, 'my shamrock has died
And my father's gone back to peru.'
The frost-damp town wore a fat-guts frown
And the dj's played brian bor
The sunday's sticky, home with rain
Sedition never entertained
Broken radio
Broken radio
Murder the past and all who sail in it
If the past is a wreck then all who sail in it
Make me realize it's time to move on
But all the ships and the planes have gone
I'm in a savage place with a timid song
8.Look What I Stole For Us, Darling
five-year-old girl from achain island...')
Aodhagan went hunting for food and money
Through the streets of walthamstow
But the dim sunday passed with nary a catch
And the dogs came home alone
Eat me now...
('we inspect our genitalia on a regular basis.')
(i'm) attacking the ones who are weakest of all
On their dim walk to work with their eyes slit so small
For the dawn and the path and their shekels of mine
Fortune won't smile, i must be brutal or die
Now i live by the railway with the rest of the coven
In a hovel vibrating lit by tandoori ovens
Where we keep the ransomees
We get raided on fridays, we get drunk when they leave us
We discuss ways to die, ways we could have gone wrong
We don't mention the now
We can see no way out
We draw skulls on the walls
We draw blood from our balls
We play catch with the rats
(still) the silence won't crack though we heave and we hack
Look what i stole! look what i stole for us, darling!
Look what i stole! look what i stole for us, darling!
Maybe we're dead, i forgot
They're hunting us, so maybe not
Oh, let us mention her torso： heat, electrical chaos
If it burst she would die, oh, oh, oh
Wasn't it kind of her to let me in？
Will it get fat when it's older
Get all riddled with cancer
While she stays the same person who is fucking me now？
See the view from above of the sofa of love
With the roof cut away, cars and people out there
And the stains spreading out and out, blood running cold
Look what i stole! look what i stole for us, darling!
Look what i stole! look what i stole for us, darling!
We used to be human beings--not anymore!
I'll have her washed and brought to you
So you, my wife, can know her, too!
9.Farewell Oratorio
Ciao, ceaucescu
Ciao, ceaucescu
10.The White Knuckle Express
This truck stop：rancid gravy
A man with no hands waving
And the dog 'round my leg bumps and grinds
It rains for miles out there
On mud and tar and still air
And the fungus-lined gap between stinking towns
Pork-eyes got him a brand new hand
He's gonna grasp you
He won't ask you
And he'll tell you it's all your fault
Chorus：
The cup runneth over, your jaws to bless
On the white-knuckle express
She slides across me
I am wearing a collar and a tie
We're tuneful, cute and giving
See, that's how we make our living
In a hall full of corpses, we'd smile and bounce on
Some say it's aimless bullshit
But they come from big houses and budgets
And, although i don't look it, i'm getting really fucking old
Pork-eyes, in the presence of a sweet young girl：
He's gonna spill you, it better thrill you,
Or he'll tear this place apart
Pork-eyes! we're going up! feet-first, feet-first!
And the legend on that girl's thigh reads 'love = hurt =
hate'--chorus
Pork-eyes, he will stroke your long hair tenderly in all the
waterfront bars
Where the wine and hollow talk-of-men will muffle things that
really, really are
And you'll go back to your room with him on your healthy
sandalled feet
To come out minutes later, bleeding, torn above, torn
underneath...
11.Chemical Cosh
Alcohol, heroin, thc
Care in the impotent (numb) community＊
Resignation, irony, under scrutiny, so events can slip
From memory of history, a voluntary dictatorship
Chemical (cosh!)
One kind for the rich, and one for the poor
The only distinction is the thickness of their front door
Unless it makes you act up, the law won't mind
You play this game, the land is yours, the warden is blind
Chemical (cosh!)
Chemical (cosh!)
It's the only kind we got (cosh!)
If you won't come across
They will have it known you're mad if you don't fit (with) their
equation
They will have you for not being rich or body-tax evasion
And they'll pay some stoned stockbroker's son
To phone and say, 'i'm coming 'round and bringing my machine
gun!'
Chemical (cosh!)
Chemical (cosh!)
It's a stab in the neck and a boot in the chops
From the earth-loving decade which denim forgot
＊ a reference to 'care in the community,' a tory plan to reduce
health care spending on mental hospital patients by cutting them
adrift. this caused much controversy a few years back i
Uk.
12.Pack Of Lies
They first met at the hospital, she was checking out for good
Her body patched but past repair, and there her angel stood
She was feeling quite confused now that her death was close at
hand
She had to face eternity, so why not this mumbling man？
Who bought himself a wedding suit at a local warrant sale
It belonged to some old turkish man who'd owed and gone to jail
He would caox her mind with talk of love to make her body kind
Because people hate the truth, you know; they need their pack of
lies
Growing tired of being foreign, being spat on and shortchanged
He demanded that she leave with him for the land from whence he
came
They were herded on like cattle to a ferry at high tide
This unkempt, aging orphan and his helpless, dying bride
But he left her at the other shore crying on the deck
She was slumped against the rail as he had struck to free his
neck
And the customs shed was empty as he made his way inside
There were no chimpanzees in uniform to hear his pack of lies
Now she's ascending into heaven with contentment on her face
And holy god is there to greet and batter her into her place
But meanwhile back on earth, we see the prodigal's returned
And they're making him the chieftain and they've come to him to
learn
How the neighbours in he rich land better steal and kill and lie
And when they ask who calls the weaklings there he just shrugs
and says, 'not i!'
Though surrounded by diseases, i stood tall and kept my health
I could have been important if i'd been somebody else
The moral of this story is： this land's a victim-farm
Don't you ever feed a beggar here, he'll eat your fucking arm
And don't blaspheme the strong ones if you want to stay alive
Now smile and give them thanks when they say, 'here's a pack of
lies!'
13.Viva Dead Ponies
(retail groceries...)
Do you know how jesus feels
When he's behind his sportscar wheel
And the windscreen glass is all gummed up with blood？
Do you know how old jesus feels？
For he walks the earth again
But not in mecca or in jerusalem
No, he sells papers and beer in a shop in crouch end [london,
england]
For he walks the earth again
Chorus：
So viva dead ponies
Come out and fight me
Viva dead ponies
Customers： drop dead
I have switched the fridges off
And i will burn down this whole stinking shop
I will get drunk and i will break every little islamical
For i have switched the fridges off--chorus
'i haven't made love in a while.
It's the best way to make a child,'
Said jesus to the disciples. he then further said, 'if you can't
shift this crate of brillo pads by friday, vengeance will be
mine!'
So viva dead ponies
You're afraid to fight me
Viva dead ponies
Back from the circus
They lunched with jesus
Fire in their noses all gone, all gone...
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