The Tiger Lilies все тексты (слова) песен, переводы, видео, клипы

'll pick you up early
From the school gates at 3:30
I'll take you down Soho
Be ready to Go-Go
The perverts will be ready
The queue it will be steady
I'll charge you 50 percent
And then I'll charge you for the rent

And so your life's been a success
And you have pleasure in excess
Don't worry it will all end soon
The crack of doom is coming soon
And so your future's looking bright
And you've reached the giddy heights
Don't worry it will soon end
It is all shallow and pretend

Climbing up the heavenly stairs
You know where you're going when you know where
You're going to hell
Yes, you're going to hell.

You're going down a hundred eighty degrees,
You can see when you can see
You're going to hell

Ref. Punch and Judy album (2004)

I'm a lonely schizophrenic I feel I've been abused
By everyone I've been with I feel that I've been used
Those voices these voices in my head they never stop
These voices in my head they never stop
I'm a lonely schizophrenic I'm friends with the Queen
All her lords and ladies and the Arsenal football team

Underneath the arches
By the barricades
I will do just what you want
If money you will pay
With faded jeans trainers on
My hair bleached and permed
Well if you’ve got the money
Then I will take your sperm

He's been around the world and much of it was queer
He got a nasty little rash from a brothel in Tangiers.
A knife it missed his artery in a harem in Algiers
And from a whore in Rotterdam he got Gonorrhoea.
Now he works the fairground, looks back on his career
And anyone who's interested he shows his souvenirs.
He lost a finger and an arm to a grenadier
He lost an eye in Africa to a bushman's spear.

(yodelling)

I thought I'd try suicide, i thought it might be a laugh.
i stuck my head in an oven but the oven wasn't gas.

(yodelling)

so then I thought I'll take some pills, i bought the wrong ones,

On Mondays murder children, little girls and boys
I put my hands around their throats till they don't make a noise
Tuesdays torture animals, pluck off small birds wings
Watch them as they bleed to death, then they don't sing
Wednesdays I defecate on the priest's front door
If the priest he does complain, I just do it some more
Thursdays I Molatov the local orphans home
Love those little orphans, charred down to the bone