Last Man To Fly (Tear Garden)
@ Lyrics by Edward Ka-Spel
Snakebite. Spitting spiders eyes... They swallowed up the night.
Cried 'Meltdwn. Zero Marsh of lava...' with supersonic sight. And barriers
of you and me piled 1500 high, spread here to there in smoking cans - we
blackened out the sky... King met king, we heard the bell, they kicked
away the board - flew headfirst to the bunkers then they started out once
more... And you and me were born again as iron plated pawns. We scorched
our way through libraries, we shredded all the lawns 'til everything was
rust and powder, every stone was turned, and random programmes re-arranged
the areas to burn. The enemy is years ahead, he's tapped into the phone.
He hides beneath the furniture - knows all the special codes. The enemy's
our destiny, he's pulling on the cord. He spits a line, I spactic dive
and sell him his reward. I perform.
Me - I have my cross to bear. It's twisted, flying through the air. The
voices that I hear are muffled. There's no one left but me to share their
secrets... I fix my eyes upon the dials and run through the uncharted
miles of nothing. I chase my tail. I'm chasing trails of hollow promises.
And it's lonely here, I'm kept alive (somehow). I stay tranquilised. I
leave - I never quite arrive. Your previous smile is fading. I'd love to
think that there's an end just waiting right around the bend, (keep
falling) every turn's a tunnel, I descend. I'm the Running Man...
I snared you in a photograph, I trapped you on a wire. I amplified you,
magnified you 1500 times. You strode across the ocean & you smiled to
careful drivers... Swooping low, you'd just say No, and though you never
showed, I know you're still alive... Turn me on, my dead man. Give me a
little sign. Turn me on, dead man - gimme 'nother line... I still watch
all your videos. My bedroom is your shrine. On Fridays all the guys will
get together in the ghetto, in the pits. Howling epilipso fits. I swing my
hips. I mime. Yes, I can feel your kick inside. Turn me on, my dead man...
When you feel the time is right, will you rejoin me as a king with
medallions and rings and stairway things that lead from heaven. Will you
give me back my innocence? Will you paint the black sky blue? Just like
your shoes... I'll keep my distance, my respect. You choose the hour, I'll
be there. Turn me on, dead man...
Everything you gave me lies within a trunk, within a drawer. I burned one
hundred photographs or more. I fled across the ocean with another face,
another name. Nothing but my soul remained the same. But still you came
with cases, I was forced to let you stay. You bought the locks, the box in
which I lay..... I tried to get away from you. I tried to make a break.
You always see right through me - there's no escape... I can still
remember you with cornets, white horses, I would run behind - you'd flash
the sign. I dived just to serve you. But night-time turned the lady to a
girl again, you'd slip away. You tried to kiss my tears away, pretend
there was no day to take me down... Nightshade, blades, Niagra Falls - I
tried them all six times. But you would always run behind me and you'd
find me. Keep me on a leash, on a line... I'm uncomfortably resigned
there's no release 'til you untie me. Deny me! I tried to get away from
you...
@ no transcription available
what if they made it all up, four guys, two thousand years ago, over wine
and cigarettes, they had this great idea, [?] how long is it going to last?
[?] what if they made everything up? what are you doing here? (x3) [?]
My flavour is the stuff of locusts. Hot chili firebrand spurting volcano
teeth. Bleeding skies, sulphur mines... The foul breath of Satan's
favourite gutter worm. You feel me when I'm close - an ice wind of steel
stilettos hammered in your spine. Quicksilver nausea spinning, spewing
forth and everything's a mess. Every possession you ever had - wrecked -
lying at your feet. Telegrams that tell you God is dead piled high on the
T.V. The incessant T.V. Burbling. Distorted. A cheesecake nun advertising
20 brands of sea cow lemon shit in 60 different languages. A gargoyle
handjives for the hard of hearing. Subliminals. Criminals. Phoney
businessmen in thick-rimmed glasses. Bad comedians. Laughing bags aping
the Hallelujah Chorus - the forgotten version - out of key (slightly).
Just enough to annoy you. My flavour is cheap purfume on rotting
Man-Ray maggots! Dead maggots. My flavour's a wound re-opening by
surprise, green fishes eyes flowing out. Wriggling things. Gelatinous.
Still alive and screaming - out of key (slightly) just enough to annoy
you. My flavour's a plunging elevator a mili-second before it hits the
cellar. A cellar with mutated rats, old - very old lost teeth. Abortions,
garbage. So pungent it hums, out of key (slightly) just enough to annoy
you. My flavour's your flavour. Deep within you. Hidden. Waiting to get
out...
Deydrated, slightly decomposed... A wishing stone thrown hopeless to a
mirage. Liquid blue just like your dying eyes. I sympathise. I carry you.
We are making circles in the sand... A happy stay, we can't delay...
I sit and watch your silhouette, I wonder what you're doing, who you're
with, if you're thinking of me now. Was I just a passing phase - did we
ever really share? Did we just soliloquise - was I ever really there. If I
leave this sheltered space, will anything be there? Disinfected,
disconnected, waiting in my cage for you to call... Am I living in a cage
with all the comforts I created. When I want you here, all you do is close
the blinds and leave me crying to a shadow locked behind a glass that
shuts me out, that cuts me down... Memories are fading. Surely something
slowly burns. Don't you yearn for just a replay for a day?
Stowaway. Starless. Washed down by an uncaring tide. Blown away,
heartlessly crossed out for snaring a ride. On a ship named Despair, I
shoot flares in the night - but nobody's there... I don't care, I've no
conscience... My memory died on the day I gazed into your faraway eyes...
Watch your step! They're all out spying. Catch your breath. They crawl
like lions. I'm flying! I'm flying! I'm diving... Peacemeal.
Perservative-free. No artificial colouring, no fleas, no flesh. No trash.
No cans of cancer, tropical disease. I'm clean. Take a bite... I'm tasting
amber. Strike a light, I leave december...
They're closing in, I switched the pictures, painted all the walls I hung
the medals, hid the magazines. As caped crusaders crawled down Freedom
Street... Guns of Liberation ushered in the dawn. One guy wears an
eyepatch while the other wears a tie. One will play the liberator, one
will run and hide. I hear the cannons crack a mile down Freedom Street -
out of sight (out of mind). The ninth wave claimed a thousand while
another thousand fled. I'm getting low on beans and marmalade. I share my
bed with locust girl, she flies through the cracks across my head. She's
always on my side... I'm always on your side... We are on your side...
I'd like to think of angels... We discussed a happy end. A place with
lemon slices on a shore with voilins. Five star waters, crates of kill cow
wine on a night of steaming sin. It's out there, somewhere... I would bet
your missing shoe... bet my Geiger counter too. Wishing you... HAPPY
DAZE!
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