unknown

("you will have a baby, a monster, an evil monster conceived in your womb, as big as i am small, and possessed by the devil himself!")

Born to refuse
Raised to exclude
Fed myths to disprove
By post-colonial prudes:
Speaking is evil, silence is evil, exile is evil, [...] is evil, [...] is evil, [...] is evil, [...] is evil, the future is evil

Evil man
Evil man
Evil man
Evil man

Here comes the fun
Blink and it's gone
Blacken the sun
Yell as you run:
"i am the demon, i am the demon..."
(evil man, evil man...)

Evil man
Evil man
Evil man
Evil man

("you're like a [...?]")

(evil man, evil man...)

("you will have a baby, a monster, an evil monster conceived in your womb, as big as i am small, and possessed by the devil himself!")

In a half-faced mask made of tinted glass
Walking streets of creased wet concrete
Where her curse [attacks] sometime
By the screaming chain-store signs
You can feel each bruise with each shakey hoof
Which conveys her through this limbo
Where the blue lights [at full tide]
Deny the facts of her life

When you ruled by his [????]
[by his broken his children]
You beat up on the joneses
[only robots could kill me]
Because you know he was with you
When you buried your future
You were lost and 18
Lost

Chorus:
You justify the use of force
By the well-armed world that [did you so short]
As the years roll on by like a drunk old horse
And you purr like gary numan's porsche

See the midlife hacks with their [...] of cash
Get to live for long enough
To see nostalgia and pastiche
Stored in leather and mesquite

But they take out 'f'-words
And they take out the 'p'-words
And they take out the 'j'-words
And they take out the 'zed'-word
And they take out the 'u'-word
And they take out the 'end'-word
All that's left is the garbage
But that will do--chorus

On gary numan's porsche
It says, "bring back the 60's, save the queen [but gas the poor]"
Gary numan's porsche
Is waiting outside of the stage door
So don't deface the room
He'll be leaving soon...i hope

Well, it's 80's night, her remaining light
As the bedsit '81 fades into suicide '94
2,000,094

And the future [we told]
[like the snow-in ????]
And the one which we live in
Charmless and boring
Gary, please, can you fix it?
Take us up in your spaceship
Set us free in this porsche
Which says...

You justify the use the force
By the well-armed world that knows you're cornered
In the work of [...]
There are better things to do than name the days--chorus

(music--leonard cohen/phil spector; lyrics--leonard cohen) sony music publishing/back to mono music

The walls of this hotel are paper thin
Last night i heard you making love to him
The struggles mouth to mouth and limb to limb
The grunt of unity as he came in

Chorus:
I stood there with my ear against the wall
I was not seized by jealusy at all
In fact, a burden lifted from my soul
I heard that love was out of my control
A heavy burden lifted from my soul
I heard that love was out of my control

I listened to your kisses at the door
I never heard a world so clear before
You ran your bath and you began to sing
I felt so good i couldn't feel a thing--chorus

And i can't wait to tell you to your face
And i can't wait for you to take my place
You are the naked angel in my heart
You are the woman with her legs apart
It's written on the walls of this hotel
You go to heaven once you've been to hell
A heavy burden lifted from my soul
When i learned that love was out of my control

I want to seranade you with a song my mother taught me:
"santa lucia!! santa lucia!!"

Up there ahead
Is a backstreet where they dump the dead
Maybe you could get out there
Stretch those legs and get some air

I'm born again in hail and flames (goldrush almighty!)
Go tell it loud to all my slaves (goldrush almighty!)
You scum don't have the fear of god
All that's left is the iron rod (goldrush almighty!)

Let's go down, kiss the plough
Public system, burn down!
And let memory fade--nothing is wrong!
Only losers take the bus

Churchill was a shopping bag (goldrush almighty!)
Can you draw the chinese flag? (goldrush almighty!)
It's three blue lines and six dahlias
Paris is in india (goldrush almighty!)

Let's go down on my friends
All alone, we descend
Plastic food, tv...take your eyes offa me!
Only losers take the bus

("fuck you!")

And we cry out with joy as we drive through the rain
And our enemies claw from every goddamned side!
Only losers take the bus
Only losers, only losers, only losers take the bus
I'm no loser, i'm a letch! ("fuck you!")
God made me a letch! ("fuck you!")
Understand! i'm not one of them, i'm not one of them... ("fuck you!")

("this is bucharest, radio romania international.")
("the only solution--another revolution.")
("the sexual revolution, like any revolution, is claiming victims.")
("the only solution--another revolution.")

([...?])
He's shining brightly, he can't be a man
He is the genius of the carpathians
He's running checks on his mother's womb
He's gonna be reborn real soon
Goodbye! goodbye, yes!
("ciao, ceaucescu!")
("the only solution--another revolution.")

Oh golly gee, oh my gosh, i never
Regina, regina rubs her thighs together
She made three wishes and they all came true
The middle one ended with a "w"

Goodbye! goodbye, yes!

("i almost wish we could get over here for a recording session.")

("yo, sweetheart, see you later
[goodbye], it's no secret
You'll feel better if you cry
When waitin' for the bluebird that sometimes come
So lay your head down and cry.")

("the sexual revolution, like any revolution, is claiming victims.")
("yo, sweetheart...")

Goodbye!

("the only solution is another revolution.")
("ciao, ceaucescu!")
("this is bucharest, radio romania international.")
("ciao, ceaucescu!")

Meanwhile, in london things stay the same
The untenable must be maintained
Who's that knocking down my back door?
It's the same bald-headed, bug-eyed male whore

Goodbye!

Lift up your head, lift up your head
Your room in this decade of eathquake and bile
Awaits you like a stewardess's mortuary smile

You'll miss all the fun, you'll miss all the fun
A rich man turned pauper, his death marked [a sham]
I can't get back to see it, 'til you lift up your head

Me and mine are fools, me and mine are fools
Say our elders who despise us, though we're no longer young
They're tired of our sneering, and we've blocked out their main street's sun

They're sleeping as we rise, one punch is drunk with pride
Resides in [brutal face], sick from petrol smoke and [steak]
The few bohemians, with their too-white shopping wrists
Confide in some crimson [page]
And pray to look cute in their squalor-dyed hair
Old age

Rolled out of here, is sun bright and clear
And we hold the fortune, in our cumulous
There's nothing else on earth that i will be part of
Why waste a lifetime on soil which won't bear fruit?
And why argue with gangsters who only smile and act mute?
If he pulls that trigger, as he says he must,
Then to them, goes the last word [and then]
The sleep of the just, the sleep of the just, the sleep of the just

But that's never enough
But that's never, never enough