BE 12" Play It Again Sam BIAS74
VILIZ METT GLAZH
Under Glass (transcribed by Alan Ezst and climate)
The air was thick with scented smoke; the talk was much to small.
The words would fall and crawl in corners, wind up eaten by the cat,
but still they spat and groped each other's fat.
Danced with rubber arms and granite feet. The planet creeped.
The ceiling flaked and floated in the beer.
We stayed clear. We stayed here, under glass.
And you I know you're trying though you haven't got a clue.
See them laughing in the showers. Twist and grab a shouting Jew...
Did they ride you through the corridors, make you climb the wall?
Did you fall? Did she cry? Did you look for other fools to fry?
To fortify your island under glass.
I know how and where you work; it's written around your collar,
sweat and dirt and sloping shoulders. You keep tripping on your hands,
yellow hands, tired hands, pushing pens and pushing sixty,
waiting for the man to push you off your shelf.
Send you rollercoasting frozen to your hole under glass.
And you may be tough and loud; you throw your weight around.
But you're jelly when the lights go out - you're hearing every sound.
The wailing chambers, whispering walls, the bitching neighbours'
spirits call, accuse you with their fire eyes that freeze.
You fry, you slip their nails inside you.
You try and try to hide out under glass.
The Light In My Little Girl's Eyes (transcribed by Alan Ezst and climate)
The street looked kind of different -
harsher colours sharper angles.
Shops stacked high with stereos and rows of magazines.
Smells of coffee, glossy limousines.
The sun danced on the chromium.
Slant eyes drowning in the light.
Lights turned red as elbows jabbed,
voices snarled and luck turned sour,
Children screamed! Brakes were screeching!
Knees were pumping, ribs were crunching...
Crushing, drowning deeper...
The street looked kind of different.
The paving stones were playing cards,
and cried out as I skipped from the red to the black.
Cracked a joke about the joker, saluted all the kings,
threw a ring to the blackest queen who ushered me away
to the palace in the square where the air's so cold
and it gets so lonely in the night.
She whispered sleazy secrets on the couch by the TV.
3D visions of a soapflake, trumpets blared, a voice declared:
"Are you feeling dirty?" Yes but also very pleased.
Heard applause, felt the claws in my back, rocking backwards,
rocking forwards in the groove. The earth moved! The couch moved!
We rolled on the felt, knocked the vases off the shelf...
Watched ourselves in the mirror, like animals like cannibals!
And you ate my ear so I nibbled on your shoulder...
Rolled your tongue up in my hands - I swallowed it whole.
Flesh decreasing by the second until all that remained
were the eyes, mine brown, yours black. Tilted back, we stared
at the hollywood sunset.
Brighter now... it looks so pretty tonight.
The light in my little girl's eyes...
Plasma Twins (transcribed by Alan Ezst and climate)
Give me plasma! Make it soon! Your love is not enough. I've got you in my
heart, but i want you in my veins. And I'll meet you at the blood bank.
They could pump you into me... It's only fair because you know I like
pumping into you.
Give me plasma, be my plasma doll, my plasma lady fair... It's nice to know
we're always sharing; a love like ours is rare. Yeah I'll show you all my
muscles if you give me your corpuscles... I'll have your blood, if you'll
have my seed. We'll grow together, the Plasma Twins... The Plasma Twins...
You won't feel a thing... The Plasma Twins... That's us!