Bend Sinister

Porterage down
The dark gross chapel
He stepped streets around now
Sales person mobile



Porterage down
Dark gross chapel
He stepped streets around now
Was introduced by a woman loose-limbed, slim



One woke up to a whitewashed ugly wall - whoosh!
Made worse by dirty postcards
Trapped in their town



They're embracing criminals in panicky hall
No temper for fall group



I'll put you down
Porterage down
To the dark gross chapel
He stepped streets around now
Sales-person, mobile



I'll put you down
To the gross chapel



You were right said peter
Dying for a smoke
But you shouldn't have said to the police
Jobs i do are little things
Like the chemist coming on insulted
They were as fed up as i was
Waiting outside after putting blame on you



Porterage down
Ask him! i am ailing
Porterage down

Then let us fill a bumper,
And drink a health to those
Who carry caps and pouches,
And wear the louped clothes.
May they and their commanders
Live happy all their years


Whene'er we are commanded
To storm the palisades
Our leaders march with fusees,
And we with hand grenades.
We throw them from the glacis,
About the enemies' ears.
Sing tow, row, row, row, row, row,
For the british grenadiers.


I'll put you down

Had a run-in with boston immigration
And to my name had an aversion
Nervous droplets
Due to sleeping tablets

No beer
No cigarettes
Slam, spikes, gin, cigarettes
Beer in ban

The cops are tops

Welcome to the 80s 90s
Welcome to us 80s 90s

I'm the big-shot original rapper
But it's time for me to get off this crapper

Welcome to the us 80s 90s

No beer
No cigarettes
Spikes, gin, cigarettes
Whisky


Like cones of silence


Welcome to the us 80s and 90s
Like 50s, 1890s


Kentucky dead keep pouring down
By death stadium
No more amused dressing room
My ambition, but one chance in three million jack
Like cones of silence


Cast aside over-inflation theory of the panic insists
Welcome to the us 80s 90s
Look at page 19, small column, lower right-hand side
Welcome to the 1980s

Crow's feet are ingrained on my face
And i'm living too late
Try to wash the black off my face, but it's ingrained
And i'm living too late



Sleepless, in-control spleen
Agreed ace family
Must have stump tripod in the genes
I'm immune to things
In my dreams



I saw through the trees
O'er the poison river locks
Talk treacherous would beat
But still my heart it is rock



Finally going through old parasite gate
But there's a 24-hour clock watch
And i'm living too late
Think



Sometimes life is like a new bar
Plastic seats, beer below par
Food with no taste, music grates
I'm living too late



Once talking was my favourite while
But now i know a conversation's end
Before it's done
Maybe i'm living too long



The daylight



I see trouble on the streets
Fearing catastrophe to meet
Walk down the devil's boulevard
But still my heart is hard



They say them cellars [were't even/were evil] black
But i know they're wrong
Think it's one
Been
Living too long


[extra verses on living too long:

Eyes like two tv screens
Continual open
Feel no pain
I live again

I'm super sad sweet sad
Line is cracked
[]
Vision gone
I'm living too long]

All these fads
It's shoulder pads



On new year's dawn
To my surprise
All the macca lads stayed at home
Picking antiques
Encloses
Cosy fleck with green bits
Main undercurrent, white spermatoze



My powers
Against them, half-useless
My senses
Alive have party



Was embarrassed but stuck with them
Walked, at shoulder, down the street, ridicule
They couldn't tell lou reed from doug yule
Suppressed hate romance



It was like being back at school



My powers before them resound
My powers heard language, two-time doom



Win populace, internal defeat
Their mob had a coup d'etat
Realize what they'd always wanted
Knew i was right all along
It wasn't then a beatles song
Superhero in harlequin kecks
Dim-wit lecture, half read
Cursing black singers ten years dead



Was a clown in victim hat
Was shouldered and spurned



Then my powers did return....

Knew i was right all along
Rock to them, a talking heads album
Superhero in harlequin kecks
Dim-wit lecture, half read


Was i - victim in clown hat?
Was i - nearly toned

Then my powers did return....

Watch out!
Makers of fads

It's mes in shoulder pads

My powers none
Powers, get batman

Said a twisted chill, flashes pan
It's mes in shoulder pads

Big fit deal for mothers of fads
It's mes in shoulder pads

You'd better
Line that bottom line
Against that different clan

Holding ankles
Rotten kecks
It's mes in shoulder pads

Last night i heard 3 real loud ricochets
From the police tech center at the top of my street
And then the morning after, brass band in unison
Jumping, shouting, all 3000
Meanwhile i've been broke in twice
And had a maniac at door, swearing, 12:05 am



And i really think this computer thing is getting out of hand
And i think this tech pilot isn't going to land
Three quarters of mail destined for beer
Time to put an end, to the extend
All the bump men
Time we cake this
Compute garbage in, garbage out
And time to put a cap on this
With a brain, nice habit
And i'm thinkin of...



(track is deserted
All securities run forth of the perverted)



Isn't gonna land
On its purgatory band
Auto tech pilot
Isn't gonna land
Jet isn't gonna land
Troll the instant pilot
Auto tech pilot
Isn't gonna land