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Текст песни Twelfth Night - The Collector 19:01

Twelfth Night - The Collector 19:01 слова песни




Kingdom come come kingdom goThat you may carve upon my grave stoneWhen confined in a six walled boxI will no longer hear the clocksIndifferenty ticking in cold deserted mansion hallsKingdom come come kingdom goMementos relics crated cargoA million things all left behindRelationships with humankindConducted as if I was buying slaves at auctionHolding court at gross partiesWhere punch drunk sycophants came slobberingTo suck my cocktails ...I escaped upstairs to my collectionTitians tits and grand GoyasGlower through the high stone traceriesOily smears bequeathed by thirsty soulsStudied throughout my long dazeScumbled paint in priceless fossilsMany a sad sullen pieta -Christ eternal held away from meBehind a brown and ancient glazeIn my collectionFacets of egoGradually eclipsing mass between the nursery and nowStruggling for meaningWalking earth insensibleFlowerings of childhood turned to stringy vegetableTroubled at night by flashbacks flashbacks flashbacks ...Waaa Waaa MummyI don`t want to go pottyTraining: I don`t want to share my toys with the other childrenThey`re horridI ...Child that I was then when was I last young?When did comic wood bricks become trading in con-tricks?When did innocence shudder and die?Adolescent I planned to take total commandDraped vision`s guilt edge on the bars of my play-penHoped to arrest the swift passage of timeAs though by some chance I could recreate EdenApple pie?Lovely!My hopes became a statue my mouth became a gunIn the hit parade of self interest I remained at number oneI was Mozart`s old piano with a special gold inlayI was always a lover of music but I never did learn to playI thought I`d be saved by my collection to begin withI thought I`d be saved by my collectionWould you believe it?I did; but then ...Nanny - Nanny Conscience?Is that you standing at the end of my bed there Nanny?My word, it`s a long time since you`ve been round hereOut in the open - you`re looking dreadfulI mean, so pale and interior;Look at your skin ... My god, the wrinkles!!!!Nanny-nan-nanny; had her made into a table lamp for meBecause I needed light to shineBut artificiallyFrom her prim portals ... Oooooooo!Nanny-nan-nannyDon`t you think it`s about time you started being nice to meNanny?One day soon I`m going to grow up big and strongAnd my ego will build me a templeAnd nobody in there will make meWash behind my ears or eat my greens orShare my toys with the other children who are just horrid anywayNot meI drank myself as dry as a desertStill in the end there was nothing left to call my ownThis freedom from pain with which I toyedBecame a gateway to a voidThe only values left were relative to powerThe trouble with life in ivory towersThe seconds stretch until they fit the skins of hoursThe faithless mates who come and goThey run away like melted snowA temple to ego never constitutes a homeAnd though it seems sadThis jangling junk we are amassedA passing pageant passing fastThere must be somethingSomething that can last more than the sense of life as justA short and pointless overtureTo deathFear debilitating fear and death turn round in circlesTurn!Kingdom come come kingdom goCollecting clouds before the Son lightOn pain of death our presents passSecreting habit over insightHuman soul is fertilisedHuman span it`s wombing seasonWard of conscience fragile childAborted by unfettered reason - that candleBoth ends burningCollecting trash collecting goldVampires ego drains and clutchesWhen cross examined by the truthIt carves the cross up into crutchesSharpened at both endsSome friend ...Freedom`s Ling is donkey borneA crossThe bleeding palms on main-streetCollecting nothing but the scornOf those who cannot bear their eyes to meetExcept in artificial lightWho needs to star in such a cast?I leave collecting to the pastTo one last party I asked them all and OneAnd when it was over I found that all but One haad goneDid Jesus have a grave stone upon which to carve His name?When He came collecting the grave gave up it`s gameNow no-one collects worthwhile livingFor it is a crop that grows from His seed of givingDiariesDrugsA glittering crystal ballCathedralsPalacesSweet sugar you can keep them allHeaven is not for sale ...BASS : CLIVE MITTENDRUMS, PERCUSSION AND PROGRAMMING : BRIAN DEVOILGUITARS : ANDY REVELL AND CLIVE MITTENKEYBOARDS : RICK BATTERSBY AND CLIVE MITTENVOCALS, SQUEAKY TOYS AND ASSORTED NOISES : GEOFF MANNWRITTEN BY : ANDY, BRIAN, CLIVE, RICK AND GEOFFORIGINALLY RELEASED ON : PREVIOUSLY UNRELEASED

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