Viva Dead Ponies

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...

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
In a while, [nadaphile?]

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

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.

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!"

(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 [sic] law
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
Customers--pay what you owe! [...?]!
Viva dead ponies
Back from the circus
They lunched with jesus
Fire in their noses all gone, all gone...

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 is [grace?] naked, i cannot see her face
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...