1979-83 Volume 1

The man who was mortally wounded in war
Kept on fighting
The man who was cut to the quick by love
Kept on loving
The man who was merciless tortured by thoughts
Kept on thinking
The man who was crippled with concern
Kept on caring

Hair of the dog
Hair of the dog
Hair of the dog that turned
Hair of the dog

The man whose eyes were sore from obscenities
Kept on looking
The man whose heart bled, killed by compassion
Kept on feeling
The man whose legs buckled under exertion
Kept on running
The man whose ears burned to the sound of his own name
Kept on listening

Hair of the dog
Hair of the dog
Hair of the dog that turned
Hair of the dog

The man of shadows thinks in clay
Dreamed trapped thoughts of suffocation day
He's seen in iron environments
With plastic sweat out of chiselled slits for eyes

From the growth underneath the closed mouth
You'll catch if you listen
Rack-trapped cubist vowels
From a dummy head expression
From a dummy head expression

The transformation is invested
With the mysterious and the shameful
While the thing i am becomes something else
Part character part sensation

The shadow is cast

I dare you, to be real
To touch a flickering flame
The pangs of dark delight
Don't cower in night fright

Don't back away just yet
From destinations set
I dare you to be proud
To dare to shout aloud
For convictions that you feel
Like sound from bells to peal
I dare you to speak of your despise
For bureaucracy, hypocracy- all liars

I dare
I dare
I dare- you- you

Dancing on hot tiles
Dancing on tender hooks
Dancing down church aisles
Dancing on holy books
Dancing on crocodiles
Dancing on hallowed ground
Dancing nyjinsky style
Dancing with the lost and found

Dancing on rock 'n roll's grave
Dancing on burning coals
Dancing on "jesus saves"
Dancing with old scratch soul
Dancing on flick knives
Dancing a stiletto groove
Dancing our nine lives away
Dancing in the louvre

Dancing in catacombs
Dancing in tuxedo drag
Dancing in dark rooms
Dancing on all your flags
Dancing in the vatican
Dancing on the papal gown
Dancing on the taxman
Dancing on the crown

We're dancing to the dark side of this tune

We're dancing to the dark side of this tune

A gut pull drag on me
Into the chasm gaping we
Mirrors multy reflecting this
Between spunk stained sheet
And odourous whim
Calmer eye- flick- shudder- within
Assist me to walk away in sin
Where is the string that theseus laid
Find me out this labyrinth place

I do get bored, i get bored
In the flat field
I get bored, i do get bored
In the flat field

Yin and yang lumber punch
Go taste a tart then eat my lunch
And force my slender thin and lean
In this solemn place of fill wetting dreams
Of black matted lace of pregnant cows
As life maps out onto my brow
The card is lowered in index turn
Into my filing cabinet hemispheres spurn

I do get bored, i get bored
In the flat field
I get bored, i do get bored
In the flat field

Let me catch the slit of light
For a maiden's sake
On a maiden flight
In the flat field i do get bored
Replace with picadilly whores
In my yearn for some cerebral fix
Transfer me to that solid plain
Moulding shapes no shame to waste
Moulding shapes no shame to waste
And drag me there with deafening haste

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 miss lane
Leave me with some pain
Went walking through this city's neon lights
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 posessing holes
He often sleekly offers his services
Exploitation of his finer years
Work with loosely woven fabrics
Of lonely office clerks
Any lay suffices his dollar green eye

She had nut painted arms
That were hers to keep
And in her fear
She sought cracked pleasures
The passion of lovers is for death said she
Licked her lips
And turned to feather

And as i watched from underneath
I came aware of all that she keep
The little foxes so safe and sound
They were not dead
They'd gone to ground

The passion of lovers is for death said she
The passion of lovers is for death
The passion of lovers is for death said she
The passion of lovers is for death

She breaks her hear
Just a little too much
And her jokes attract the lucky bad type
As she dips and wails
And slips her banshee smile
She gets the better of the bigger to the letter

The passion of lovers is for death said she
The passion of lovers is for death
The passion of lovers is for death said she
The passion of lovers is for death
The passion of lovers is for death said she
The passion of lovers is for death
The passion of lovers is for death said she