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Spitting on the streets
Numb heads and feet Nowhere to go Won't let us in the shows 'Cos we talk about love And the Psycho-Mafia I'm talking 'bout love And the Psycho-Mafia No soul in the discos No rock in the clubs Won't let us in the pubs And the city joys Going on about love And the Psycho-Mafia I'm talking about love And the Psycho-Mafia Psycho-Mafia Psycho-Mafia 'cho Mafia 'cho Mafia Spitting on the streets Shot heads and teeth Our eyes are red Our brains are dead Going on about drugs Psycho-Mafia I'm talking about love Psycho-Mafia |
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Right noise.
We're gonna get real speedy You gotta wear black all the time You're gonna make it on your own. Cos we dig Cos we dig We dig We dig repetition We dig repetition We've repetition in the music And we're never going to lose it. All you daughters and sons who are sick of fancy music We dig repetition Repetition on the drums and we're never going to lose it. This is the three R's The three R's: Repetition, Repetition, Repetition Oh mental hospitals Oh mental hospitals They put electrodes in your brain And you're never the same You don't dig repetition You don't love repetition Repetition in the music and we're never going to loose it President Carter loves repetition Chairman Mao he dug repetition Repetition in China Repetition in America Repetition in West Germany Simultaneous suicides We dig it, we dig it, we dig it, we dig it Repetition, repetition, repetition Repetition, repetition, Regal Zonophone There is no hesitation This is your situation Continue a blank generation Blank generation Same old blank generation Groovy blank generation Swinging blank generation Repetition, repetition, repetition.... |
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My boys take what I say
Do it the studio way New equipment all clean New gear Clothes mean I answer and take the calls No trouble with the law Turn it up for interviewers Oh yeah prime movers I wonder what is next year's thing? Crash smash crash ring They've got another side Pop heroes of the mind While you suckers queue or work Money for us and play it up We have never sold out Spent hours on a clever act Phoney advertising quotes that make you buy some raise your hopes That it's the new leather thing Crash smash crash ring The broken backs of the real bands A million closed minds Weep for the old glam Year of the average man The Worst died because of you Along with some others too Erasing off our rainbows We are men, we have big toes! It's the new leather thing Crash smash crash ring Houdini believed his tricks That is why he died Oh I'm not coming out There may be a film on tonight Or Eliot's Untouchables As for new hotels Look like science fiction films or revival gothic pigswill Watch the skies, what to think Crash smash crash ring (Bramah:) Rocket! / Rock it! It's the new leather thing Ba ba ba doo..... New leather thing Yow! |
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I'm searching for the now
I'm looking for the real thing, yeah Head through a blue haze Waiting for the musical craze We gotta taxi for Mr. Nelson Taxi for Mr. Nelson Rebellious Jukebox yeah Rebellious Jukebox, oh No sounds at first came out This machine had dropped out But it made music to itself Made music for itself Rebellious Jukebox yeah Rebellious Jukebox now I'm looking for the home of the real I want a happy time now Drinkers from the slaughterhouse Weren't happy and went out Noise resounds aloud Noise resounds the lounge Rebellious Jukebox yeah Rebellious Jukebox oh I sidled up to a fruit machine This I was imagining: Some drinkers dancing at the bar Drinkers dancing for the bar Rebellious Jukebox yeah Rebellious Jukebox now I'm searching for the now I'm looking for the real thing yeah |
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No Christmas for John Quays
Come on get a bit of fucking guts into it What what Well the powders reach you And the powders teach you But when you find they can't reach you There is no Christmas for junky He thinks he is More interesting Than the world Ah but buying fags Puts him in a whirl I'll have a packet of three-five fives Will you fucking put the monitors on for Christ's sake? I'll have a packet of three-five fives I'll have 20 of those over there I'll have 20 No.6 for a headache And I've had enough right there, stop (Why is this) Ah Ah Ah Ah Ah He spits in the sky It falls in his eye And then he gets to sitting Talking to his kitten Talking about Frankie Lymon Tell me why is it so? Tell me why is it so? Why did the sky break today? Why did this happen today? He goes out of his face with the Idle Race He goes out of the room with this tune Although the skins are thin He knows its up to him To go out or stay in I'll stay in I'll stay in Have a break You Me X-Mas X-Mas Well the powders reach you And the powders teach you But when you find they can't reach you There is no Christmas for junky There is no girls There is no curls Just the traffic passing by Bye bye bye bye bye bye bye bye Open the room, there's a cloud of smoke Will you fucking get it together instead of showing off? Give me one Give me B Give me three Give me D No X-mas for John Quays |
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Get off the Ind. Est.
Get off the Ind. Est. Yeah, Yeah, Industrial Estate Yeah, Yeah, Industrial Estate Yeah, Yeah, Industrial Estate Well you started here to earn your pay Clean neck and ears on your first day Well we tap one another as you walk in the gate And we'd build a canteen but we haven't got much space Yeah, Yeah, Industrial Estate And the crap in the air will fuck up your face Yeah, Yeah, Industrial Estate Boss can bloody take most of your wage And if you get a bit of depression Ask the doctor for some valium Yeah, Yeah, Industrial Estate Yeah, Yeah, Industrial Estate Yeah, Yeah, Industrial Estate |
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I was in a sleeping dream
When a policeman brought my mother home By the window I didn't scream I was too old for that I was in a drunken dream The pubs were closed It was three o'clock At the bottom of the street it seemed There was a policeman lost in the fog I understand but I don't see it I understand but I don't see it I understand but I don't read it Futures and Pasts You can cry for your lost childhood Will you cry for our lost childhoods? But remember how you hated it And worse cause you couldn't state it? And it's time for the note, see it And it's time for the note, say it And it's time for the note, read it Futures and Pasts Look at the woman of thirty-nine Look at the man of forty-nine You can read their lousy lives You can see their ugly face lines They understand but they don't see it They understand but they don't see it I understand but I don't read it Futures and Pasts I understand but I don't see it I understand but I don't see it I understand but I don't read it Futures and Pasts |
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Oh aye you're a good lad
Here is a pound note The stupid bitch They were made for each other You should have met his brother His mother was deaf and dumb Well that stupid get Played games with names Of the place he'd worked Of the women he tupped He thought he were envy of the music scene Part of the choosy scene Envy of the music scene Here comes long hair for the fair No pay just take on the way Those bastards stripped me bare In front of all those people Spat peanuts in my hair And all the leaves are brown And be part of the music scene Envy of the choosy scene Part of the music scene And aye you're a good lad Oh here is a new flat That stupid twat Made for each other You should have met his brothers Real (fuckers) That stupid kid Played games with names All the gigs he'd worked And the women he'd fucked He was part of the music scene Envy of the choosy set Part of the music scene Leave a mark on the city I'll smash your doors down Become a demolition worker A metal construction worker And behind our conscious minds Our affections are turning grey Yeah, we're part of the music scene Envy of the choosy scene Part of the music scene Part of the music scene Part of the choosy scene 6 minutes! 6:40! OK, studio, that's plenty |
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(spoken/announced) Last orders half past ten
This is a groovy number ah! Rowche Rumble Is valium Valium Valium Rowche Rumble I said rumble Loads of wives around the world are given them by doctors, who think they're little girls The doctors need prescriptions The wives need their pills So Rowche Rumble Menopause wives are hard to handle No culture or love, no gambles The (dull) manage, especially smashed on Rowche Rumble Rowche Rumble Physician, heal thyself Why don't you heal yourself? The promoter is a jerk The promoter is a jerk Our government's built on expense accounts Once in, never out A step to Rowche Force feeding What are the people around you taking? Rowche Rumble Physician heal thyself Why don't you heal yourselves? Now I've tried crazy things Abusing my body to a quick end But I'll never never never never do it again I said I'll never never never never do it again Rowche Rumble Musician, heal thyself. Loads of people across the land Do a prescribed death dance While condemning speed and grass They got an addiction like a hole in the ass For Rowche Rumble Rowche Rumble Physician heal thyself Why don't you heal yourselves? Rowche Rumble I send 70 pounds instead of 70 p to pharmaceutical company Rowche AG The lorry arrived the next day Swiss gnomes dealing out potions They're gonna kick your liver in You gotta treat it like a bin Beer and speed is okay But the full use of your body isn't Rowche Rumble It's valium Said rumble |
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I am the dice man
And I take a chance, huh Do you take a chance, huh? Where you two going? Where you two going? Is this a branch on the tree of showbusiness? Do all these musicians Have a social conscience? Well, only in their front rooms But I am the dice man And I take a chance man Do you take a chance, huh? They stay with the masses Don't take any chances End up emptying ashtrays But I push, push, push, push Throw the bones and the poison dice No time for small moralists Cos I am the dice man And I take a chance, huh Do you take a chance, fan? They say music should be fun Like reading a story of love But I wanna read a horror story Where are you people going? Where are you people going? Is this a branch on the tree of showbusiness? But I am the dice man A balls-on-the-line man Do you take a chance, baby? |
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Shhhh
We are private detectives onward back from a musical pilgrimage We work under the name of the Fall. Who would suspect this? It is too obvious. Our office is secluded. Those there to suspect Would not see the wood for the trees We were six like dice but we're back to five Up here in the North there are no wage packet jobs for us Thank Christ While young married couples discuss the poverties Of their self-built traps And the junior clergy demand more cash We spit in their plate and wait for the ice to melt I must create a new regime Or live by another man's Before the moon falls I must create a new scheme And get out of others' hands Before the moon falls I could use some pure criminals And get my hands on some royalties Before the moon falls A problem of this new scheme Is answering obscene phone calls Before the moon falls Gotta stop drifting around Kill this ugly duckling We've got the power And must not misuse it Cos life is short and full of thought I use the power And will forever end this reign of terror Before the moon falls Before the tide subsides Before the moon falls for the fifth time Before The Fall swoons |
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Get that spot, put it in the pot for me
Cos I'm Muzorewi's daughter I'm Muzorewi's daughter I'm Muzorewi's daughter I'm Muzorewi's daughter I was Muzorewi's daughter I've been in the pot too long Too hot in the pot too long I'm Muzorewi's daughter Muzorewi's daughter (African call love) (Genteel laws love) I'm Muzorewi's daughter Left wing hot properties Out of the closet and sheet Arose Muzorewi's daughter I'm Muzorewi's daughter I'm Muzorewi's daughter I'm Muzorewi's daughter I'm Muzorewi's daughter I'm Muzorewi's daughter The trees are reeds with evil seeds for me Cos' I'm Muzorewi's daughter I'm Muzorewi's daughter I'm Muzorewi's daughter I'm Muzorewi's daughter I'm Muzorewi's daughter (African call love) (Genteel laws love) I'm Muzorewi's daughter (I blow a wall) love I'm Muzorewi's daughter I'm Muzorewi's daughter I'm too long in the pot I'm too long in the mouth I'm too long in the pot I'm too long in the nips I'm too long in the tits I'm too long in the mitts I'm Muzorewi's daughter I'm Muzorewi's daughter I'm Muzorewi's daughter I'm Muzorewi's daughter Muzorewi's daughter Muzorewi's daughter |
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(spoken) Are you doing what you did two years ago?
Yeah? Well don't make a career out of it Up tonight You are chock, you are pop, you are pop-stock (backing vocals) (Mix my pop-stock) Pop-stock, mix my pop-stock Pop-stock, mix my pop-stock Pop-stock, mix my pop-stock We like pop-sick stickers We like weak TV We like chocolate animals We eat porky piggies Pop stock, mix my pop-stock Pop-stock, mix my pop-stock Pop-stock, try my pop-stock Pop-stock, buy my pop-stock Now all the bourgeoisie They hate our crazy scene 'cause we dig pop-sick stickers We like weaker tea But they're the product of the same systems Beyond their control They stayed on at school And tolerate bad manners Pop stock, mix my pop-stock Pop-stock, mix my pop-stock Pop-stock, try my pop-stock Pop-stock, buy my pop-stock Now come on kids You don't need a '77 You don't need Lee Cooper You don't need three cosmic boots You don't need no cosmic shit Lets get this thing together And make it bad Why are you smiling Why are you laughing At or with this song It's not like your scene, your scene Pop stock, mix my pop-stock Pop-stock, mix my pop-stock Pop-stock, try my pop-stock Pop-stock, buy my pop-stock (?) |
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Fat conference women
Clap return of glass house And the Arabs have it made Oil is women in veils, eyes glazed Second Dark Age. Death of the USA. Return of the family. The scooter cabbages And the commune crapheads sit and whine While the common near my birthplace is now a police college It's a second dark age. No Psalm Sunday or any day. The city is dead. Bust. Ghost-dance rite. Tepid I could join a pray-peace group Spy in Norway Cause groups can change the world and meet Ms. Fjord and Benny.* "Hi I am Benny. Go where the brave prance No Czechoslovak food queues are a party, fool A mediocre anti-Jew And single people are screwed in the Second Dark Age I am Roman Totale, 17, the bastard offspring of Charles I and the Great God Pan. |
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My face is slack
And the kidneys burn In the small of my back Will never learn Well I'm not going back To the slow life Cos every step is a drag And peace is a kite Of materials you never catch Come up for a snatch Up from hell Once in a while Cause I am Jack From a burning ring My face is slack And I think think think I just think think think Too fast to write Too fast to work Just burn burn burn I sat and drank For three decades I'm 45 Cause I am Jack From a burning ring And my face is slack And I think think think I just drink drink drink Too fast to write Too fast to work I just burn burn burn A store man from the slack They are smart They are (mod) Their brains are half They never end Just follow trends But I am Jack ... And put down left-wing tirades And the musical trades And all free trade I said eat this grenade Cause I am Jack From the burning ring My face is slack And I think think think Just think think think Too fast to work Too fast to write I just burn burn burn And put down left-wing tirades and the musical trades And all free trade I said eat this grenade I said Doncaster eat this grenade |
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