Тексты песен «Legendary Pink Dots»

She could smell his fear like black piss river; like knotted balls of wors rolling in the smouldering ruins of an abbatoir. Like suicide in Menstrual Lake. Like the open graves of Hell. She could smell in as she...

Peeling paint, dead cigarettes... old cobwebs on the ceiling. Feeling faint, the spider fled - the flies played hide 'n' seek. We wrestled cheek to cheek, pink naked on the sheets. A feel was cheap, a deeper thrill was...

You call me up. They cool me down. They drown me with a syphon spewing ice-knives, nail me to my shadow, case me in a plaster-cast and cast me down the mine. I'll dig until my fingers shine and blood runs down the wall...

I call you up ; THEY cool me down . They drown me with a siphon spewing Ice-knives, nail me to my shadow, case me in a plaster-cast and cost me Down the mine. I'll dig until my fingers shine and blood runs down the...

My building's full of little holes with heads in, staring at the street. They sometimes topple forwards, then they shriek at one another, passing freaks. They rarely speak and though i don't feed them -- still they keep...

Marble halls and city walls... He lined them all with figures tall who called to passers-by and cast their eyes with scorn on forms imperfect - spread across the lawns... and born to wonder just why they coughed and...

The dragon slips into the water. And the tiger bites its claws. And we'll sing only as angels sing. The floor will clear, we'll walk with eyes fixed forward and fists raised high. The world is our shining oyster and...

We will sow the seeds together. We shall feed the fertile ground. We will wait then we shall gather fruits to feed our hungry mouths. We'll feast, we'll toast the one who sends the storm, who shapes the corn. We line...

Drowning in dog stew and strangled in vine. Blister wine burns the inside . . . (They flew in a line over poppy fields. They'd drop and they'd blast their supply. On demand! They persist. They pervert. They command:...

With supple hands and iron will, we'll shape the land - we shall rebuild. We'll make the world a garden - we'll only scatter seed. We'll turn the weeds to wine. We'll count to nine whenever we are angry. We'll see our...

Excommunicate the heretic! Chain up, crucify the lunatic, the fanatic. We've got the nails, we've got the matches - light the sky for hours! Got the power, the desire and we're looking for a thrill. Kill! Don't know...

@ Lyrics by Patrick Q. Wright Michael couldn't understand why people shook him by the hand then laughed at him and talked behind his back. Michael didn't know the rules. Abused, confused at all the schools they sent...

Fanning the flames with a feather. He leapt from the the 10 o'clock train to oblivion. Maimed, but the ceiling was falling, the siren was calling. He threw off his chains and he joined The Infinity Waltz. Gallantly...

They recycled all the cripples; resurrected all the dead. In a technicolour sundown, they had 'em standing on their heads. Now they're propping up our front line, but behind them is a plague. Maybe the whole shit...

Madman! He squats on my shoulder with icy paws and poison claws. Paranoise, annoys, destroys his toys and tries to fix them. But his world is made of powder taken neatly with a straw, and though he knows he's getting...

@ transcribed by ezust@cs.mcgill.ca and climate@netcom.com the street looked kind of different harsher colours sharper angles shops stacked high with stereos rows of magazines smells of coffee glossy limousines the sun...

Airport torture. Patience! Wait! The tannoy shouts you've just arrived and fingers tap and eyes are strained - they wander through the queue for recognition. Soon we'll be together - sharing secrets. Share a scarf........

Cracks appear and cobwebs creep and dust rests on the shoulders. Mirrors lie and photographs lie back and laugh. And it only takes a push and China Doll will fall apart. But it only takes a touch and China Doll will...

Under the table and down in the pit with out plastic potatoes and Joe-Joe the dove on the spit. On the spoons you made rhythm; I whistled the blues cos my throats been misused and my voice is a crack in the tar. In...

Fifteen storeys high, the black curtains drawn, and the sun is just a brat that spits and the goes away. The T.V. chatters, there's a pile of letters scattered on the mat. Reminders, bills--they smell of cats. Three...