Документ взят из кэша поисковой машины. Адрес оригинального документа : http://crydee.sai.msu.ru/public/lyrics/cs-uwp/l/legendary.pink.dots/island Дата изменения: Mon Jan 8 13:00:00 1996 Дата индексирования: Mon Dec 24 07:11:13 2007 Кодировка: Поисковые слова: star trail

@ALBUM: Island of Jewels
@ARTIST: Legendary Pink Dots

@SONG: The Red & The Black

Reflecting on the Empire after eight... pig's head on a plate
white wine... The mint imperials circulated... Captain sips his brandy,
curses Ghandi, dreams Napoleon and Delhi turns to jelly; Bombay ducks;
Calcutta shivers down in its hole... Old England is out to rule the waves
again - banging on the table! Routing the reds and the browns and the
yellows. Black sky... the missles blast home! (It's half for me, half
for my company)

My union's name is Jack, and it's a ripper! hammers her head with a
sickle, nails monkey to the tree. The lasers, they beam from the stars and
Moscow is charred. Peking is leaking. Tripoli's stripped (ha! ha!) -
Mohammed, he flees from his mountain, counting the corpses in the stadiums
with his shades on cos the white light hurts his eyes. And Captain, he
cries, Captain, he screams, falls out of bed. It's only a dream (?)
Nightnurse wipes his forehead, whispers "try to sleep... back to sleep..."

@SONG: The Diary

Peeling paint, dead cigarettes... old cobwebs on the ceiling. Feeling
faint, the spider fled - the flies played hide 'n' seek. We wrestled cheek
to cheek, pink naked on the sheets. A feel was cheap, a deeper thrill was
steeper. Camera peeped, director leaping, screaming, shouting, louder
"Roll 'em, hold 'em, hole 'em, Close up. ART! Prepetual motion. Higher!
Ram it home now cowby. Down Boy. Showdown! Shoot that crazy foam across
the duvet..." Get them creaming at the dairy, pumping lonesome 'cross the
Praries. Hats spin on their laps. The hotsprings gushing. Play roulette.
The russians do it best - well, don't they, Jerkov?

@SONG: Jewel On An Island

Bills were mailed express, black borders ordered PAY. Across the page the
figures were laying and laughing... Jenny ripped them up. She ran the bath.
Called her daughter, told her "Count to three, then throw the toaster -
Mummy's ghost will watch you from a better place. Be brave!"
She braced herself but plugs were pulled. No power, so she crawled into
the kitchen, tried the oven. Slipped her head in sideways, raised a hand,
switched on the gas... No hiss, alas! She snapped. She snatched the safety
razor, slid it across her wrist. She snapped a dozen plastic knives. She
tried a dive through double glazing. Taps kept dripping. Rats were running.
Vermin squirming in their holes, the neighbors banging on the walls.
Outside the sirens were blaring. Babies screamed. The jailer was staring at
her nakedness; smiled from the mirror with a key tied on a string. She
can't get out, he won't come in... Round and round we go. Her tower. MY
TOWER!

@SONG: Rattlesnake Arena

In Cut Throat Lane the chains were swinging. Iron boots with blades on
springs were lancing. Silver dance. The ghetto ballerinas tiptoed,
blasting. Rattlesnake Arena burning red black red black. The gutter
snipeser gasped beneath their melting mask's that kept on smiling. Dead
eyed. Dog's Breath. Choke! Rattlesnake Arena burning red black red black.
The stakes were low, the winner takes a wall to lean on, scrawl his name
on for a night. The story starts again.

@SONG: The Shock of Contact

Astrid, do you recall the Sundays at the Spa with double straws from a
carton with a heart on. Who could ask for more? You'd assure me you'd
support me as I tried to write that novel in the hovel we called home (OUR
home). You'd mow the lawn you'd pay the bills. You touched me there. The
Shock of Contact kept us warm.
And Astrid, you kept your word, you never said a word, as I ripped up the
pages, spent your wages, entertaining friends you hated, making bombs and
planting them in galleries. Your salary was wasted (oh how criminal)...
They cut the power, they pulled the plugs - they took away the phone.
We're quite alone. We share a candle in the cellar - oooh you touched me
there. The shock of contact kept us warm.
And Astrid, as sure as blue skies always turn to grey - they came with
guns. I tried to run and you took all the blame. They took you and I never
said a word - and now you never say a word as I lean through the bars. I
whisper my apologies, oh Jezus you stare clean through me. You cut me
down, I touch you there.. The shock of contact keeps me warm.

@SONG: Jewel in the Crown

Give the boy a uniform, a unicorn, a horn, a sawn off shotgun and a
cause... an ORDER. Cross a border. Tell him "Heads must roll!" Can fetch
them back on poles. No rules except "Amuse yourself, abuse at leisure.
Steal the treasure. Screw and sweat. She'll swear in another alphabet. It's
meaningless... no soul."
You'll reap and you shall sow. You'll rape, you'll know that God's will is
mysterious. Delerious. The fire burns inside. Outside the napalm forms a
molten tower. Fit for Kings! FOR YOU! You're everything. You're golden.
Take your role in history. Maybe you're just a number but WE know your
name and we'll remember. Yes, we'll remember 'til the end of time (so back
in line you asshole!)

@SONG: Our Lady In Chambers

Our lady on the Bleeding Ground, her satin gown is trailing in the mud. She
ducks a football cos it's Christmas Day and the shells are duds. And Tom
and Jerry drink their Bovril, crawl out from the trenches swap their wives,
and swap addresses til Our Lady's calling time. Then back in line behind
your pistols. Swines in schnitzels. Zyklon Tea. You hear him plea, you
watch him grovel. Give it to him right between the eyes...

@SONG: Our Lady In Kharki

Our lady on the wall selling poppies for Our Boys. Our price. Our choice.
we bought one-watched Our Lady fly confetti fly the city die in flames as
tanks spat amber at the Odeon. A soldier on the podium. One leg, a face
that's splashed with egg... a roadmap stained by cherry brandy, cracking
jokes about The Jerry. And we snatched his helmet, pissed and blew our
whistles with the steam. The kettle boiling, so we stamped and screamed for
China tea. Were playing Shanghai in the cloisters, sucking oysters, dipping
fingers, finding pearls the size of avadado pears. The treasure's there - a
shame there's nowhere left to spend it... Shall we share the powdered milk
and wait for God?

@SONG: Our Lady In Darkness

Our lady in the abbatoir. She's hanging headless, charred. Baby on her
breast - there's nothing left, the milk turned to powder, Twist her, she's
an hour glass - but time has died. The blast was final. Captain's flat down
in the urinal fixing cos he's sick of shooting shadows.

@SONG: The Guardians of Eden

With supple hands and iron will, we'll shape the land - we shall rebuild.
We'll make the world a garden - we'll only scatter seed. We'll turn the
weeds to wine. We'll count to nine whenever we are angry. We'll see our
Kingdom come. We're the Guardians of Eden.

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