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Fugazi (Live At Loreley)

Vodka intimate, an affair with isolation in a Blackheath cell

Extinguishing the fires in a private hell

Provoking the heartache to renew the license

Of a bleeding heart poet in a fragile capsulePropping up the crust of the glitter conscience

Wrapped in the christening shard of a hangover

Baptized in tears from the real, tears from the realDrowning in the liquid seas on the picadilly line, rat-race

Scuttling through the damp electric labyrinth

(Caress Ophelia's hand with breaststroke ambition)

(An albatross in the marry time tradition)Sheathed with the Walkman wear the halo of distortion

Aural contraceptive aborting pregnant conversation

(She turned the harpoon and it pierced my heart)

(She hung herself around my neck)From the time-life guardians in their conscience bubbles

Safe and dry in my sea of troubles

Nine to fives, with suitable tiesCast adrift as their sideshow

(Sideshow)

Peepshow

(Peepshow)

Stereo hero becalm, be still, bewitch

Drowning, drowning in the realThe thief of Baghdad hides in Islington now

Praying deportation for his sacred cow

A legacy of romance from a twilight world

The dowry of a relative mystery girlA Vietnamese flower, a dockland union

A mistress of release from a magazine's thighs

Magdalene's contract more than favors

The feeding hands of western promise hold her by the throatA son of the Swastika of '45, parading a peroxide standard

Graffiti disciples conjure testaments of hatred

Aerosol wands whisper where the searchlights

Trim the barbed wire hedges, this is Brixton chessA knight for embankments folds his newspaper castle

A creature of habit, begs the boatman's coin

He'll fade with old soldiers in the grease stained roll call

And linger with the heartburn of Good Friday's last supperSon watches father scan obituary columns

In search of absent school friends

While his generation digests high fiber ignorance

Cowering behind curtains and the taped up, painted windowsDecriminalized genocide

Provided door to door Belsens

Pandora's box of holocausts

Gracefully cruising satellite infested heavensWaiting, waiting the season of the button

The penultimate migration

Radioactive perfumes for the fashionably

For the terminally insane, insaneDo-do-do you realize

Do-do-do you realize

Do-do-do you realize

This world is totally fugaziWhere are the prophets, where are the visionaries?

Where are the poets to breach the dawn of the sentimental mercenary?

Where are the prophets, where are the visionaries?

Where are the poets to breach the dawn of the sentimental mercenary?

Where are the prophets, where are the visionaries?

Where are the poets to breach the dawn of the sentimental mercenary?Where are the prophets?

Songwriters

Dick, Derek William / Kelly, Mark / Mosley, Ian / Rothery, Steve / Trewavas, PetePublished by

Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC

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