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Текст песни Elvis Costello - Episode Of Blonde

Elvis Costello - Episode Of Blonde слова песни




I spy for the "Spirit of Curiousity"All the scandals of each vain monstrosityI gossip and I pry and I insinuateIf the failure is greatThen it tends to fascinateA tornado dropped a funnel cloud with twenty tons of rainThough she had the attention span of warm cellophaneHer lovers fell like skittles in a 10-pin bowling laneBut nothing could compare with that explosion of fameSo you jumped back with alarmEvery Elvis has his armyEvery rattlesnake its charmCan you still hear me?Am I coming through just fine?Your memory was buried in a simple box of pineDid her green eyes seduce you and make you get so weak?Was there fire engine red that she left upon your cheek?It`s such a shame you had to break the heart You could have counted onbut the last thing you need is another...Episode of blondeRevolving like a jeweller`s figure on a music boxSpangled curtain parted and a night-club scene unlocksPinned and fixed and fastened in a follow spotArms thrown out to everyone, she`s giving all she`s gotTo the last gasp of a wounded bandeonTiny man imploring to the cieling fan This stolen feelingAmplified up through a busted speakerBlaring, blasting, advertising, distorted beyond reasonInto the street where petty crime-coats shadow panic drunkards,Half out of the taxi cab the barker seized my elbowHe thought I was another lonely, likely pilgrim looking for St.TelmoRepeat chorusI tried to keep a straight face but you know it never paysHe would stare into those eyes and then vacation in her gazeShe was a cute little ruin that he pulled out of the rubbleNoe they are both living in a soft soap bubbleThe film producer`s contemplating, entertaining suicideThe picture crumpled in his fist, his runaway child brideThe timepiece stretched across a wristShe couldn`t care less cast asideThe scent that so repelled him that he swore: "insecticide"And there`s a farewell note to motherThat will conclude "Your loving Son""Oh, tell your other children not to do as I have done."ChorusSo an artist drags a toothbrush across the first thing that he seesAnd names the painting "Christ`s Last Exit into Purgatory"Receiving secret messages from an alien intelligencePaying off his stalker it`s a legitimate expenseSo paste up pictures of those shrill and hollow girlsWith puckered lipsShe`s a trophy on your armA magnet for your money clipThe moral of this story is the sorry tale to sayThey`re pieced with links of chains so they can never run away

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