Script For

(derek disck/steve rothery/ pete trewavas/ micheal pointer/mark kelly/diz minnett/brian jellyman)

He knows, you know, he knows, you know
Problems, problems, problems, problems

Light switch, yellow fever, crawling up your bathroom wall
Singing psychedelic praises to the depths of a china bowl
You've got venom in your stomach, you've got poison in your head
You should have listened to the priest at the confession
When he offered you the sacred bread

He knows, you know, he knows, you know, he knows, you know
But he's got problems

Fast feed, crystal fever, swarming through a fractured mind
Chilling needles freeze emotion, the blind shall lead the blind
You've got venom in you stomach, you've got poison in your head
When your conscience whispered, the vein lines stiffened
You were walking with the dead

He knows, you know, he knows, you know, he knows, you know
He's got experience
He's got experience, he knows, you know
But he's got problems
Problems, problems, problems, problems, problems, problems.

He knows...
Slash wrist, scarlet fever, crawled under your bathroom door
Pumping arteries ooze the problem, through the gap that the razor tore
You've got venom in your stomach, you've got poison in your head
You should have listened to your analyst questions when yo lay on his leather bed

He knows, you know, he knows, you know, he knows, you know
But he's got problems

Blank eyes, purple fever, streaming through the frosted pane
You learned your lesson far to late from the links in a chemist chain
You've got venom in your stomach, you've got poison in your head
You should have stayed at home and talked with father
Listen to the lies he fed

He knows, you know, he knows, you know, he knows, you know
But he's got problems
He knows, you know, he knows, you know, he knows, you know
He's got experience
He's got experience, he knows, you know
He knows, you know, you know, you know
You know, you know, you know, you know

Problems, problems, problems, problems, problems, problems
Don't give me your problems

(derek dick, steve rothery, mark kelly, pete trewavas, ian mosley, brian jelliman, diz minnitt)

Garden party held today
Invites call the debs to play
Social climbers polish ladders
Wayward sons again have fathers
"hello, dad!", "hello, dad!"

Edgy eggs and queuing cumbers
Rudely wakened from their slumbers
Time has come again for slaughter
On the lawns by still "cam" waters
It's a slaughter, it's a slaughter

Champagne corks are firing at the sun again
Swooping swallows chased by violins again
Straafed by strauss they sulk in crumbling eaves again
Oh god not again!

Aperitifs consumed en masse display
Their owners on the grass
Couples loiter in the cloisters
Social leeches quoting chaucer
Doctor's son a parson's daughter
Where why not and should they oughta

Please don't lie upon the grass
Unless accompanied by a fellow
May i be so bold as to perhaps suggest othello
Punting on the cam is jolly fun they say
Beagling on the downs, oh please do come they say
Rugger is the tops, a game for men they say
They say, good god they say

I'm punting
I'm beagling
I'm wining
Reclining
I'm rucking
I'm fucking
So welcome
It's a party

Angie chalks another blue
Mother smiles she did it too
Chitters chat and gossips lash
Posers pose, pressmen flash, flash
Smiles polluted with false charm
Locking on to royal arms
Society columns now ensured
Returns to mingle with the crowds
Oh what a crowd

Oh, punting on the cam
Oh please do come they say
Beagling on the downs
Oh please so come they say
Garden party held today they say
Oh please do come
Oh please do come, they say

(derek disck/steve rothery/ pete trewavas/ micheal pointer/mark kelly)

Catalogue princess, apprentice seductress
Hiding in her cellophane world in glitter town
Awaiting the prince in his white capri
Dynamic young tarzan courts the bedsit queen

She's playing the actress in this bedroom scene
She's learning her lines from glossy magazines
Stringing all her pearls from her childhood dreams
Auditioning for the leading role on the silver screen

Patience my tinsel angel, patience my perfumed child
One day they really love you, you'll charm them with that smile
But for now it's just another chelsea monday
Chelsea monday

Tju
In the city of dreamers...
Drifting with her incense in the labyrinth of london
Playing games with faces in the neon wonderland
Perform to scattered shadows on the shattered cobbled aisles
Would she dare recite soliloquies at the risk of stark applause
To chelsea monday

She'll pray for endless sundays as she enters saffron sunsets
Conjure phantom lovers from the tattered shreds of dawn
Fulfilled and yet forgotten the st. tropez mirage
Fragrant aphrodisiac, the withered tuberose
Of chelsea monday
Sweet chelsea monday

Patience my tinsel angel, patience my perfumed child
One day they really love you, you'll charm them with that smile
But for now it's just another chelsea monday
Sweet chelsea monday

Voice: "hello john, did you see the standard about four hours ago?
Fished a young chick out of the old father
Blond hair, blue eyes
She said she wanted to be an actress or something
Nobody knows where she came from, where she was going
Funny thing was she had a smile on her face
She was smiling
What a waste!"

Catalogue princess, apprentice seductress
Buried in her cellophane world in glitter town
Of chelsea monday
Chelsea monday
She was only dreaming

(derek disck/steve rothery/ pete trewavas/ micheal pointer/mark kelly)

So here i am once more
In the playground of the broken hearts
One more experience, one more entry in a diary, self-penned
Yet another emotional suicide
Overdosed on sentiment and pride
Too late to say i love you
Too late to restage the play
Abandoning the relics in my playground of yesterday

I'm losing on the swings
I'm losing on the roundabouts
I'm losing on the swings
I'm losing on the roundabouts
Too much, too soon, too far to go, too late to play
The game is over, the game is over

So here i am once more
In the playground of the broken hearts
I'm losing on the swings
I'm losing on the roundabouts
The game is over

Yet another emotional suicide
Overdosed on sentiment and pride
I'm losing on the swings
I'm losing on the roundabouts, roundabouts, the game is over

Too late to say i love you
Too late to restage the play
The game is over

I act the role in classic style
Of a martyr carved with twisted smile
To bleed the lyric for this song
To write the rites to right my wrongs
An epitaph to a broken dream
To exercise this silent scream
A scream that's born from sorrow

I never did write that lovesong
The words just never seemed to flow
Now sad in reflection did i gaze through perfection
And examine the shadows on the other side of morning
And examine the shadows on the other side of morning
Promised wedding now a wake
Promised wedding now a wake, awake

The fool escaped from paradise
Will look over his shoulder and cry
Sit and chew on daffodils and struggle to answer "why?"
As you grow up and leave the playground
Where you kissed your prince and found your frog
Remember the jester that showed you tears, the script for tears

So i'll hold our peace forever when you wear your bridal gown
In the silence of my shame the mute that sang the sirens' song
Has gone solo in the game
I've gone solo in the game, but the game is over

Can you still say you love me
Can you still say you love me
Can you still say that you love me
Do you love me
Do you love me
Do you love me
Do you love me, the jester's tear

Can you still say you love me
Can you still say you love me
Can you still say that you love me?

The jester's tear, the jester's tear
Do you love me