| Disc 1 | ||||||
|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|
| 1. |
| - | 
|
|||
| 2. |
| - | 
|
|||
|
Spiders know these things
Gremlins know these things Tap, tap, tap, tap You think it's the pipes But who turns on the lights? Our city hobgoblins Ubu le Roi is a home hobgoblin And at nights all ready Our city hobgoblins Infest my home at night They are not alright Ten times my age One-tenth my height Our city hobgoblins Buzz of the all-night mill Ah but evil Emigres from old green glades Pretentious eh? Our city hobgoblins They'll get yer So Queen Victoria Is a large black slug in Piccadilly, Manchester Our city hobgoblins And they say We cannot walk the floor at night in peace At night in peace |
||||||
| 3. |
| - |
|
|||
|
I'm totally wired.
Can't you see? I'm totally wired. Can't you see? My butterfly stomach growls growls I drank a jar of coffee Then I took some of these And now I'm totally wired. Life leaves you surprised. Slaps you in the eyes And I was a communist A rich man would bail me. The opposite applies. The morning light Another fresh fight Another row right right right right And I'm totally wired. You don't have to be weird to be wired You don't have to be an American to be strange You don't have to be strange to be strange You don't have to be weird to be weird. I'm totally wired. My heart and I agree. I'm always worried. |
||||||
| 4. |
| - |
|
|||
|
What a dynamic entrance
Put a block on the words This I hear on a train We had salmon on a bus At Epsom no races lost We don't bet we just take ('tec) Put a block on the words Got no check on the world Go and put a block on the works Listen boys and girls Just closer On the (clommererds) Just close off the words Put a block on the words The nine unknown men knew this Three sorts The first: along Louie's life The second: the complete restructure of your pretentious life Three: the only reason you know this Is that it was well documented But I say Put a block on the words Here's an independent chart moneyspinner For all you people who've come a long way Me and the guys played this for charity for spastics We played it 10000 times And raised 5 shillings and 7 and a half pence for charity Cary Grant's wedding Hail new puritan, righteous maelstrom Have you ever heard a Bill Haley LP What is this shit? Everybody go Cary Grant's wedding |
||||||
| 5. |
| - |
|
|||
|
Pay your rates
Pay your water rates Pay your rates Pay your water rates If your rates too high Write a snotty letter If your rates too high Put your life on this bit of paper Advice on rates Advice on rates Pay your rates Pay your water rates Pay your rates Pay your water rates If your rates too high You'd better sign this letter If you don't pay your rates You're gonna end up here Or end up on debtors' retreat estate Or debtors' retreat escape Debtors' escape estate Debtors' escape Debtors' retreat escape Debtors' retreat estate Neuroticred landscape A socialist state invention The old government bones working (Legendary Chaos tape: Let's hear it for the working class traitors Hello Warren Mitchell) Debtors' escape estate Debtors' retreat estate A no-motivation estate Debtors' escape estate Pay the borough Pay the borough Pay your rates Pay pretty sharp Pay the borough Pay the borough Pay the borough Pay your rates Pay your water rates Pay your rates Pay your rates |
||||||
| 6. |
| - |
|
|||
|
O'er grassy dale, and lowland scene
Come see, come hear, the English Scheme. The lower-class, want brass, bad chests, scrounge fags. The clever ones tend to emigrate Like your psychotic big brother, who left home For jobs in Holland, Munich, Rome He's thick but he struck it rich, switch The commune crap, camp bop, middle-class, flip-flop Guess that's why they end up in bands He's the green piece in us all He's the creep-creep in us all Condescends to black men Very nice to them They talk of Chile while driving through Haslingdon You got sixty hour weeks, and stone stone toilet back-gardens Peter Cook's jokes, bad dope, check shirts, lousy groups Point their fingers at America Down pokey quaint streets in Cambridge Cycles our distant spastic heritage Its a gay red, roundhead, army career, grim head If we was smart we'd emigrate. |
||||||
| 7. |
| - |
|
|||
|
Wireless enthusiast intercepts government secret radio band and
uncovers secrets and scandals of deceitful type proportions. Aghast goes next door to his neighbor, secretly excited, as aforementioned was a hunter whom radio enthusiast wanted friendship and favor of. A new face in hell Nearly a new face in hell! A muscular, thick-skinned, slit-eyed neighbor is at the table poisoned just thirty seconds before by parties who knew of wireless operator's forthcoming revelation. A new face in hell! A prickly line of sweat covers enthusiast's forehead as the realization hits him that the same government him and his now dead neighbor voted for and backed and talked of on cream porches have tricked him into their war against the people who enthusiast and dead hunter would have wished torture on. A servant of government walks in and arrests wireless fan in kitchen for murder of his neighbor A new face in hell! The dead cannot contradict Sometimes the living cannot A new face in hell! |
||||||
| 8. |
| - |
|
|||
| 9. |
| - |
|
|||
|
Net cap. of 58 thousand pounds
They sweat on their way down Grey ports with customs bastards Hang around like clowns the Uh-containers and their drivers Bad indigestion Bad bowel retention Speed for their wages Suntan, torn short sleeves Look at a car park for two days Look at a grey port for two days Train line, stone and grey This is not their town Big cigars come out of the ground Sweat on their way down F. Jack's a distant relation Communists are just part time workers And there's no thanks From the loading bay ranks Look at a car park for two days Look at a grey port for two days Train line, stone and grey RO-RO roll on roll off The container drivers Speed for their wages Uh-containers Uh-and their drivers |
||||||
| 10. |
| - |
|
|||
|
Hate wide for dog breeder
in the [town of her thoughts] Never seen dog breeder This is the tale of his replica. Name was J. Temperance Only two did not hate him Because peasants fear local indifference Pet shop and the vet, Cameron. One night vet is called out from his overpaid leisure To Temperance household, their limit ran out and phoned his wife in terror. The next bit is hard to relate. (There are no read-outs to this part of the track.) The new born thing hard to describe Like a rat that's been trapped inside A warehouse face, near a city tide Brown sockets, purple eyes A bed with rubbish from disposal barges Brown uncovered no changeling, as the birth was witnessed. Only one person could do this: Yes, it's Cameron And the thing was in the Impression of J. Temperance. This hideous replica. |
||||||
| 11. |
| - |
|
|||
|
Night though I do not sleep
I dream of the park up the road I open the bushes, a couple of lovers Trying to be (lust-rockers) And although my spouse is in the other room I think we can do it here Yes, uh, and she makes me pay For every girl I have the guts to look at Anyway here, quiet here You thought it'd be great You thought it'd be great But a good mind does not a good fuck make I take you to the park up the road But here is the rain Rain makes policemen no threat Turns cars into little specks Muffles the shouts of your neighbour And we will have sex here Here, here Couch, shagged out There's no hard-ons It's just come and it's gone I'm becoming everything I used to hate But I can't go back there Not back there, I can't go back there Not back to the park The brown monk ghost'll catch us And make us lust-rockers Make us wear huckleberry masks and, uh, huckleberry masks You sing you don't believe in (couples) But I can't believe that Especially the crap about the huckleberry masks |
||||||
| 12. |
| - |
|
|||
| 13. |
| - |
|
|||
|
The people I like live
in kitchens and halls. I can't reach a decision on this. Can I come back to you on this? Hitler lost his nerve on it. Dr. Morel prescribed it well It's fast debts. I am Robertson Speedo and this is my Gramme Friday. Skin drops slow to the bones But I've got my hunger anyway. I'm on Gramme Friday. Work and eat spontaneous Enter the house of weariness. It's Fastnet Look out Look down Look out Look now The hunger.... Friday . |
||||||
| 14. |
| - |
|
|||
|
When it happened he walked through all the estates, from
Manchester right to, er, Newcastle. In Darlington, helped an old man on his own chase some kids who fucking threw bricks through his flat window. He had a way with people like that. (Because of this) we moved on. 'Junior Choice' played one morning. The song was 'English Scheme.' Mine. They'd changed it with a grand piano and turned it into a love song. How they did it I don't know. DJs have worsened since the rising. Collaborating on nothing in praise of the track with words they can hardly pronounce in telephone voices. I was mad, and laughed at the same time. The West German government have brought over huge yellow trains on Teeside docks. In Edinburgh. I stayed on my own for a few days, wandering about in the, er, pissing rain, before the Queen Mother hit town. I'm Joe Totale The yet unborn son The North will rise again The North will rise again Not in 10,000 years Too many people cower to criminals And government crap The North will rise again X4 Look where you are Look where you are The future of my father Shift! Tony was a business friend Of RT, 17 And was an opportunist man Come, come hear my story How we set out to corrupt and destroy This future Rising The business friend came round today With teeth clenched, he grabbed my neck I threw him to the ground His blue shirt stained red The north will rise again. I said you are mistaken, friend I kicked him out of the home Too many people cower to criminals And that government pap When all it takes is hard slap Got out the window, a burglar wrote There were men with beads on sticks The fall had made them sick A man with butterflies on his face His brother threw acid in his face His tattoos were screwed The streets of Soho did reverberate With drunken Highland men Revenge for Culloden dead The North had rose again But it would turn out wrong The North will rise again So R. Totale dwells underground Will wait from cyclic grind With ostrich head-dress A face a mess, covered in feathers Orange-red with blue-black lines That draped down to his chest They are a tentacle mess And light blue pant-heads TV showed sham Chip and Dale No concept of what they mean The Arndale had been razed Shop staff knocked off their ladders Security guards up from the escalators And now darkness descends Tony seize the control He built his base in Edinburgh He had on his hotel wall A hooded friar on a tractor He took a bluey and called Totale Who said, "the North has rose again" But it will turn out wrong When I was in cavalry I vowed to defend All our English clergy Though they have gone wrong And the fall has begun This has gotten out of hand I will go for a foreign base But he told me off life down at home Said Totale, go back to bed The North has rose again today And you can't stop your age And you can't stop your age |
||||||
|
