Lyrics, Folktronic

Appalachian mountain girl
Coming home to me
Appalachian mountain girl
Keep me company
Won't you come and comfort me
Appalachian mountain girl
Coming home to me

Electronic mountain girl
Say you'll always stay
Electronic mountain girl
Never fade away
If you should ever fade away
I would fade to grey
Electronic mountain girl
From the Appalachia Way

Electronic mountain girl
Say you love me do
Electronic mountain girl
And your love is true
When I look into your eyes
Appalachia blue
I spend my life coming home to
Electronic you

Electronic mountain girl
If I had my way
Electronic mountain girl
By your side I'd stay
I'd stare into your deep blue eyes
Every night and day
Electronic mountain girl
From the Appalachia Way

Smooth Folk Singer

My mother on her deathbed took me aside
(Smooth folk singer)
My mother on her deathbed told me 'Child
(Smooth folk singer)
Be careful with your folk, be careful, child!
(Smooth folk singer)
Folk music will blow the world's mind
(One time, two times)

Take care, folk singer, you may find
(Smooth folk singer)
The way you folk gonna blow the world's mind
(Smooth folk singer)
Be careful with your finger and a guitar chord
(Smooth folk singer)
It all depends on the order of your words
(One time, two times)

Smooth folk singer
Take care, child
The way you folk
Gonna drive the world wild
(Smooth folk singer, one time, two times)

More heavy than Leadbelly, more hooky than Hooker
(Smooth folk singer)
Not sleepy like Estes, a rambler and a looker
(Smooth folk singer)
Not a rocker like Richard, baby I'm a folker
(Smooth folk singer)
And around my neck I wear a velvet choker
(One time, two times)

Smooth folk singer
Take care, child
The way you folk
Gonna drive the world wild
(Smooth folk singer, here we go, one time, two times)

My mother on her deathbed took me aside
(Smooth folk singer)
My mother on her deathbed told me 'Child
(Smooth folk singer)
Be careful with your folk, it drives the women wild
(Smooth folk singer)
Take care, folk singer, take care child!
(One time, two times)

Smooth folk singer
Take care, child
The way you folk
Gonna drive the world wild
(Smooth folk singer, one time, two times)

I'm a solid sender, my heart is full
(Smooth folk singer)
Of political agendas and primitive cool
(Smooth folk singer, one time, two times)

Mountain Music

I've got that mountain music in me
But not since I was born
I learned about it yesterday
From a CD-ROM
I've got that mountain music in me
I'll play it till I'm dead
Like a synthesiser sequencer
I've got it in my head

Singing ah ah yuppy digital deck
Johnny Cash, Jupiter, 24 track

Anyone can do it
That's the beauty, see
A Pakistani Indian
Or a kid from Tennessee
Well you can play that music straight
But mix a synthesiser in
And it might become a symbol of the world we're living in

I've got that mountain music in me
Deep in memory
Time-stretched in my sampler
On my Rio mp3
I've got the mountains on a Minidisc
Right next to my heart
And when I press the play button
I hear the music start

It never was so simple
It never was so pure
The folks who made it never were
So ignorant and poor
They travelled round the world
And never stayed where they belonged
And if they had we'd never have
These lovely mountain songs

'Moon Of Alabama' is my favourite country tune
It's got lyrics by a communist and music by a Jew
And when those fellers wrote it they were living in Berlin
I guess that is a symbol of the world we're living in

Ay ay yuppy, digital deck
Johnny Cash, Casio, Dylan and Beck

Grand Ol' Oprah Winfrey, Massive Attack
Johnny Cash, Casio, Bruce Haack

Ay ay yuppy, Dylan and Beck
You and me might as well be on Star Trek

Simple Men

The simple men live the simple life in big log cabins
They're best of friends with a simpleton and a horse called Dobbins
Their yards resound with the simple sound of blackbirds and robins
And their wives make simple samplers with thimbles and bobbins

We envy them, the simple men
The simple men we envy them
We envy the simple men

They're terribly superstitious, fear the ghost and the gollum
They sit in a chair in the mountain air and breathe in the pollen
Their tweeds and plaids are homespun adorned with a sporran
They're always at war with the valley folk because they are foreign

We envy them, the simple men
The simple men we envy them
We envy the simple men

Funny how it seems the more that we evolve
The more the basic problems of our lives get solved
The more we yearn for harder, simpler times back when
We envy them, the simple men

Their pigs have lice and their rats have mice and their dogs have rabies
They dig in the muck to make graves they mark with the names of their babies
They beat their wives, it serves them right it's in Deuteronomy
And for their simple daughters they reserve clitorectomy

We envy them, the simple men
The simple men we envy them
We envy the simple men

Funny how the symbols of humanity
Turn out to be the images of brutality
Projecting soul on the soulless again
We envy them, the simple men

Finnegan The Folk Hero

In a field of corn
Is a master's shoe
Click the master's shoe
There's a blue-tailed fly
Click a blind man's foot
See a horse's tail
It's down to Finnegan
The folk hero of HTML

This is the tale
Of a clever sod
Was his gift from God
He slaved all night
Coding the master's site
Never paid a cent
What was his by rights

How the website burns
Since Finnegan fell!
Let's pray that he returns
From web designer hell
He's the only one can fix it
Fix it good and well
Finnegan, the folk hero of HTML

He could stream Quicktime
He could code in Flash
He could make your icons dance with Java
Then empty out your trash
But Finnegan's dead
Rotted clean away
Because the bastard master
Never gave him any pay

How the bastard yells
Cos the website's down
When he taps his URLs
All he gets is '404 Not Found'
By the coffee machine
Screaming Finnegan's name
But the folk hero is dead
And there is no-one left to blame

We've lost our shirts
Now Finnegan's gone
If he had got his just deserts
We could've been cracking merrily on
Cos there was just one man could fix it
Fix it good and well
That's Finnegan, the folk hero of HTML

When the web is quiet
On a moonlit night
There is phantom code
On the master's site
Some say it's spiders
Or a bot from hell
Like hell! It's Finnegan, the folk hero of HTML

Protestant Art

No more decoration
No more piss Christs
Or donkey shit virgins
In the next life
No more tax on hard-working citizens
To finance these abominations

O the shakers from Shakerville are here
Quakers and puritans appear
Smiting Sodomites with a mighty rod
Bringing Protestant art direct from God

A gallery like a church
Woods of pine and birch
A protestant artist is at work
Improving minds
And through the wood
An icy wind whistles through the pines

The lord is coming down now, we must show
How we've been investing, if we've reached his goals
You never know tomorrow may be your tax control
The Lord is an accountant, an accountant of souls
Don't practice deceit, keep your receipts, keep your receipts

For the shakers from Shakerville are here
Quakers and puritans appear
Smiting Sodomites with a mighty rod
Bringing Protestant art direct from God

The seamstress is making a little girl's dress
She stitches the seams with little grey threads
Frigid and severe, she sits and sighs
She's got a grey room, she's got grey eyes

O the shakers from Shakerville are here
Quakers and puritans appear
With a righteous heart they go before
To bring Sodomites and art within God's law

Oh the shakers from Shakerville are here
Quakers and puritans appear
Spouting gibberish at Sodomites they meet
Righteous with the arrogance of the meek

Are you justified, are you qualified
What's your salary, will you pass the gates of God's great art gallery when you've died
I've seen what's in your diary
Can you honestly tell me you are perfectly normal?

The lord is coming down but I don't care
You'll never break my spirit, you'll never raise my hair
Human creativity is all right by me
Ron Athey, Chris Offili, Karen Finlay

But the shakers from Shakerville are here
Quakers and puritans appear
Invincible for God is at their side
Their maker, art critic and guide

Oh the puritans are marching bravely on
Keeping America strong
Smiting Sodomites with a mighty rod
Bringing Protestant art direct from God
Invincible for God is at their side
Their maker, art critic and guide

US Knitting

Mary-Beth is living in a world of her own
Sitting in the schoolhouse she sews all day with twine
Making up a picture, making up a song
Some people say she's unusual in the mind
They say that she's unusual in the mind
My name's Abe, I run the general store

Mary-Beth's a strange one, pretty in her way
Sitting in the classroom, a-rocking and a-swaying
A-Sewing and a-knitting to the rhythms of the rain
Stuff from what she's seen mixed with stuff from in her brain
And some say that you'll see America in there
Folks say you'll see America there

One day I had a strange dream and Mary Beth was in it
I dreamed I plucked a bunch of flowers and went to make a visit
I marched up to the schoolhouse and bent down on one knee
Asked Mary-Beth respectfully if she would marry me
Asked Mary-Beth if she would marry me
I said 'My name's Abe, I run the general store'

Mary-Beth gazed down from the chair where she was sitting
Said 'Abraham I thank you, and I will, on one condition
Change the name of the store you keep, call it US Knitting
And move it stone by stone to the top of Sugar Mountain
Move that building up to the top of Sugar Mountain
We will rebuild the general store

'There we'll sell my samplers, make paintings and sing songs
Wait for the Lion of Judah who is rising like the sun
Our pets will be the eagles, our crest a rampant bear
And we will see the whole of America from there
Some of it is pretty, and some is pretty queer
But we'll see the whole of America there'

Mary-Beth's proviso didn't seem so strange
I told her 'That scenario is easily arranged
We'll live on Sugar Mountain, I'll bring my General Store
We'll call it US Knitting and sell samplers by the door
Our pets will be the eagles, and our crest a rampant bear
And when the Lion of Judah roars a mighty roar
We'll see the whole of America there'

Jarre in Hicksville

Jean Michel Jarre came to Hicksville, too ra loo ra aye
The music, smoke and lasers blew the people all away
He ruined the musicians, they'll never play again
Without adding a lick or two they heard in 'Oxygene'

Jean Michel Jarre in Hicksville at the time of the eclipse
Frightened all the ladies but delighted all the kids
He played a bank of synths they'd never seen before or since
And on that day they threw away their wooden violins

They've built themselves a synthesiser, smashed their old guitars
Made laser shows with a mirror and smoke with their cigars
They play on stoops and porches now for tourists and for friends
A choice of 'Revolutions', 'Equinox' or 'Oxygene'

Tape Recorder Man

Come all ye rounders if you want to hear the tale
Of a tape recorder man
He travelled far and wide through the dusty countryside
The tape recorder man

Collecting songs of love, collecting songs of blood
Sometimes songs of evil men and sometimes songs of good
And sing irie aritty ardie and sing irie arrity anne

He said the age of the machine would make us all the same
The tape recorder man
And we should tape record the songs the old men sing
The tape recorder man

Because when the old were gone, there'd be no more songs
Just mechanical din
And sing irie aritty ardie and sing irie arrity anne

At a music festival he presented to the world some of the folk greats
Then, with a condescending smile, he introduced us all to some electronic fakes
Saying 'The old folks don't need gimmicks to make the music new
But here's a group of college kids who apparently do'
And sing irie aritty ardie and sing irie arrity anne

And he left the stage to seek some nerdy boffin geeks who sounded like the Pogues
Singing like the BeeGees, dancing like freaks, playing modular Moogs
I met him in the dressing room at the end of the show
I said you used to be my hero but tonight you've fallen low
And sing irie aritty ardie and sing irie arrity anne

I said tape recorder man damn your Memorex
What about innovation, man, what about art and sex?
He couldn't share my point of view, and he freely said so
So me and the tape recorder man quickly came to blows
I hit out at his shoulder where his tape recorder hung
It slipped to the floor with a crash, the strap must've been undone
And sing irie aritty ardie and sing irie arrity anne

It exploded like a bomb from the first world war
And seven spools of folk recordings rolled across the floor
A random burst of yodelling rubbed up against the heads
That woozy crazy spool was like John Cage or Varese
I cried 'Tape recorder man, this I won't forget
This is folk music... concrete!'
And sing irie aritty ardie and sing irie arrity anne

Little Apples

Lying in the nude with my Apple G4 cube
I am rendering a porcupine in Bryce
And in Stratavision Pro I'm designing where to grow
Little apples when I build a haybale house

I heard on Ananova while snoozing in the clover
They've mapped the human genotype at last
And when the news was done I looked up into the sun
Through my Fuji DV1 and photographed a lone
Golden eagle like a Stealth jet on a test

As the cliches turn to truths
Like the trees begin to lose
Their leaves I think
I've lost where I belong
Tears fill up my eyes
Cos I'm leaving life behind
To live forever in a country music song

I drank and then I lied
I shot and then I died
I woke up under open country sky
Is West Virginia real
Here on my windshield
It sure as hell looks strange
In the weird Blue Mountain rain
Lke a figment of my melancholy mind

The seasons as they turn
A log fire as it burns
Country music always at my heels
I'm becoming all the songs
I've been living them so long
I sometimes sing the words in Japanese

Break me out of jail
Before my memory fails
I don't believe in destiny or God
Did a flying sauce come
Flying from the sun
And fry my brain and dazzle me with fog
Did it take my soul away
Is that why it's all so strange
I've forgotten the refrain
Bury me at sea
Say Who the hell was he?
Or weep on bended knee
But say these lines:
'Here lies a fool who never knew
Who he really was and threw away the little apples
The little apples of his mind'


There's so many insiders on the outside
I think it's beginning to be the inside
And fire regulations have disallowed
Another lonely cowboy
From joining the lonely crowd

There's so many mavericks right off the map
We've redrawn the map to bring them all back
There's so many renegades off the beaten track
They're beating a track to my door
And I'm beating them back with a board

All the men in black
With nowhere left to go
Their darkness comes prepacked
With a warm familiar glow

You're dead ringers
Say you're singers
You're dead ringers
With your Texas Instruments

And breaking the rules has become the new rule
They're teaching it now at business school
They're all wild and crazy and one of a kind
Anarchists to a man
Everybody does it like no-one else can
And irony's a kind of sincerity now
With so many milking a once-holy cow
And alienation's a kind of belonging
A synth isn't cold any more
There's a country new wave banging on the door
Give the cowboys numbers
They don't deserve a name
They're all preprogrammed
They're all the same

You're dead ringers
With your Texas Instruments
Say you're singers
You're dead ringers
With your Texas Instruments

I came to a bend in the road and I saw
Two cowboys in black guarding two doors
One door leads to heaven, the other to hell, they cried
And one of us always tells truth, the other always lies

I shot them both to hell
And when the cowboys died
I opened them and saw cables
Snaking round inside

Psychopathia Sexualis

Twilight's falling peacefully across the railway line
The lamps come on in Pervert Park and the moon begins to shine
There's a distant sound of barking dogs up at Pubic Peak
The beds all creak at Deviant Falls, and there's molls on Murder Street
I'm your station master, welcome all and sundry
To Psychopathia, Sexualis, population six hundred
Typical in every way except one, and that's apparent
The walls in all the buildings here are totally transparent

Puffing round the railway track here comes the evening train
Bringing Dr Kinsey back to talk with us again

We must be doing something right cos he comes time after time
Excuse me just one minute, there's a critter on the line

Good evening Dr Kinsey, why thank you, not too bad
I guess you're staying over at the Hotel Marquis de Sade?
Why look, there's Zack the owner, I can see him through the wall
Tying Louise to the writing desk and making her suck his balls
I see you've got your notebook out, you know it takes all sorts
I sometimes think it's just as well we can't see people's thoughts
Even if their actions often speak out loud and clear
At least in Psychopathia, I think that's why you're here

We may be small, but we like to think we're all blessed
Welcome to Psychopathia, SX.

There's beautiful waterfalls, there's lovely valleys
In Psychopathia, Sexualis

I'll help you with your luggage, sir, the station's closing now
I'll take this one, that's all right, I can lift it -- holy cow!
Doctor, what you got in there, cine cameras? Well I never
Oh look, here's Rob the farmhand, Evening, Rob, lovely weather!
Maybe you should follow him and wait outside the barn
He'll penetrate the dairy cows, it doesn't do no harm
Some folks even think it makes the milk drink even better
But others kind of wish he'd think to wear a French letter

A typical American town, the same as all the rest
Welcome to Psychopathia, SX.

Evening, Reverend, how's your sister, your lovely sister your wife?

Here comes Pete the mailman, he interferes with children
Evening Pete, you doing all right? Some say he's even killed 'em
But if he did he's got the bodies well hid, threw Bill right off the track
That's just as well, cos Sherrif Bill's a necrophiliac
What you writing, doctor, looks like a perscription
Them words is Latin, ain't they, some technical description?
Well, here's your hotel, I'll leave you now, got to lock the station
Then mosey home for another night of lonely masturbation

In hornery America, see, there ain't much else to do
I guess that's why we're valuable to scientists like you

A typical American town with transparent walls
Psychopathia, Sexualis, goodnight y'all

Folk Me Amadeus

There's no infinite reckoning in this eternal line
No deeper meaning beckoning in this runic design
So folk me Amadeus one more time

My children were fair and wore stars in their hair
Now they're bald, watch TV, and buy New Age CDs
The unicorn's a horse on whom some sad bastard
Has superglued a horn of plastic

In a post-everything world it still pains me, girl, to spell it out for you
The Celtic skirl of Alan Stivell might as well be 'Cotton Eye Joe'
Put it flat on the floor with a 4/4 beat, add Monsieur Oiseau

Tragedy, Celtic tragedy
I lost myself in London, Paris, San Fransisco
So folk me, Amadeus, to Celtic tragedy disco

The druids were bullies on mushrooms and brew
Selling mindbending moonshine to suckers like you
To undermine it all
It's a bill of snake oil
I wish the myths were true, but you should be so lucky, lucky

Roots, schmoots, you should know by now
It's the Electronic age, not the Jurassic
Gypsy, schmipsy you're all just as tipsy
As Tiny Tim tripping on acid
Your Celtic moonshine is J. Arthur Rank
The Incredible String Band is banned from my Republic
King Arthur is laughing all the way to the bank
Muscle men in thongs all oiled up and bronzed swing their prongs
To batter a horrible bong from the execrable Gong

Tragedy, Celtic tragedy
I lost myself in Tokyo and San Fransisco
So folk me, Amadeus, to Celtic tragedy disco

The world is superflat now, but ironies abound
Transcendence isn't dead, it just went deeper underground
Within this 'no infinity' infinity is found
The lack of deeper meaning's getting deeper all the time
'Cotton Eye Joe' may just be joke folk techno
But tonight it had me crying
So folk me Amadeus one more time

Tragedy, Celtic tragedy
I lost myself in Marrakesh and San Fransisco
So folk me, Amadeus, to Celtic tragedy disco


My favourite handheld
You're my favourite handheld device
Visor never silent
Speaking to Palm Pilot
From New York to Tokyo
Being happy
Being free
Always connected
You and me

My favourite human
You're my favourite human device
And wherever I go
I'll never be alone
And when I fail
You never yell
We're handheld
Never apart
Recharge this little cell my heart

The Penis Song

Buckminster Fuller, inventor of the geodesic dome
Once gave a lecture he entitled 'everything I know'
Taking the title literally, he spoke four years or so
And I intend to do the same, so make yourself at home
(Pull up a chair, smoke a cigar or something)
Cynthia Plaster Caster once took my cast and showed me
In a penis exhibition in a gallery on Broadway
So many people saw my penis in its glass case
They recognise my penis now before my face

Subject for today: does knowledge elevate or demean us?
Everything you didn't want to know about my penis

A baker has a penis thing for flattening the dough
But stick it in the oven and it rises up, like so
The man who chops the melons up with a long and pointed knife
Has a penis with a mottled skin, I know, I asked his wife
(Very curious)
A priest beneath his cassock has a penis all the same
Some call the hypothalamus the penis of the brain
One man's sport is fly fishing, another's, pocket billiards
Congratulations, Watson, on your almost-Freudian brilliance

The comedian from hell always thinks he can entertain us
With everything we didn't want to know about his penis

Like the heather of the Highlands, mine is tipped with flecks of purple
With a head as wise as Solomon, although shaped like a turtle
It wears a flesh-tone roll-neck and the neck goes up and down
It comes out in the evenings and on Friday paints the town
Obsessively, compulsively, it only wants one thing
To fill your chosen orifice with ropes of pearly string
Delivering its message to your womb or to your tongue
And then going slack and flaccid when its pressing work is done

In witty conversation, by drip or intravenus
I drop everything you didn't want to know about my penis

It's a very fine philosopher, debating right and wrong
Shows promise as a songwriter (it writes most of my songs)
Don't bury it in boxer shorts but wear it like a tie
Or avant garde jewellery hanging from your fly
(Very chic!)
Jean Luc Godard once declared, to gales of mystified laughter
That some men wash their hands before they touch it, others after
And if you slot it carefully where the sun will never shine
You'll feel what's mine becoming yours, what's yours becoming mine

Ladies and hermaphrodites, my tender-hearted readers
Everything you didn't want to know about my penis

There was a bohemian monk
Who went to bed in a bunk
He dreamt that Venus
Was stroking his penis
And woke up all covered in...

Thought for the day: does abstinence dirty us or clean us?
Everything you didn't want to know about my penis

It's a tribute to the power of something otherwise mundane
That waving it under a stranger's nose is said to scar his brain
I'm doing my bit to see the power of taboo remains intact:
I keep a penis on my head but never lift my hat
(I keep a penis on my head but never lift my hat)

And if I've bored you stiff with this riff about my penis
I wouldn't let a little thing like that come between us

And if you can think of another song even more atrocious
Well supercalifragilisiticexpifuckingdocious


The deaths he caused were accidents
He committed no murder
Oh yes, some died of fright when they woke up in the night
To find a leopard in the room where they'd been lain after the feast
They should have known, those silly fools, the beast was tame
Heliogabalus wasn't to blame

For the deaths I'm illustrating in this quilt
Heliogabalus cannot share any guilt
Cannot share any guilt

Some lived to suffocate under the suffocating weight
Of a thousand fresh-cut blooms
He sent cascading from the ceiling of his room
Upon a crowd of his admirers
How was he to know some sybarites
Would drown beneath the flowers?
If a parasite can't swim should we blame him?

He was blond, he had blue eyes, he was completely without guilt
As I intend to demonstrate in my Heliogabalus quilt

They condemn his four year reign, his naked chariot team
The deadly snakes released in the forum at the climax of the games
His nights of gay debauchery, rushing through the slums
Disguised as tavern potboys, perfume sellers, barbers
Such exaggeration, such slanders!

If you'd been emperor of Rome at the age of just 15
Wouldn't you have done the same?
So why then does his name
Retain the mantle of the evil always claimed by joyless vultures
To explain the strange allure other cultures?

Heliogabalus wasn't to blame

He was beautiful and sexy and completely without guilt
As I intend to demonstrate right here in this quilt

Condemn me freely if you wish
But when my quilt is finished
I intend to sleep as soundly and as well
As Heliogabalus in hell

Going For A Walk With A Line

There's trouble up at Cowbell Barn
The Shadoks are going back to the moon
With rhodedendrons in a burlap sack
Resin on a hessian violin rag
All in Helvetica Light

Robert the devil witnessed the nostril
Of an elderly phoenix in a youth hostel
Playing violin up a monkey pine
In a finger painting for Dr Prinzhorn
(Psychiatrist of these parts)

The violin frightened Bimbo the cat
So they put on a tape of the sound of pot plants
Growing, little knowing
That a woodlouse would grouse about that

A call came in from the Empire of Numbers
A government inspector was passing amongst us
Incognito, my little female circus rider
From Exotik Park would have to go

Rainy weather by the river
Snake paths in the grass
The child with a Chloranthemum divining twig
Cuts Alpinism class

Delia Derbyshire, Malcolm Clarke
And Desmond Briscoe sit in the dark
Invoking a spirit mathematician:
Phra the Phoenician

High on his evergreen reputation
Don John's under investigation
Apparently his donkey ratted on him
Because the Don frightened him out of his skin
It's a shambles, never mumble in the brambles

A little Italian opera queen
Is reading a book to the twitter machine
'AAAS Calcul-Geometrie
(Element 18)'

Tunis Hamamet, that conifer smell
The oriental cemetery -- and there's Bill
Explaining pop music to the mentally ill
Stirring mint tea with a Lucifer match
Let's stay a while and watch

Pictograms in porcelain
Sketches of birds, vogel skizzern
Field dynamics for sizothymes
Going for a walk with a line

What a palaver, more's the pity
Death is in Dessau buying pottery
Orienteering, you part the trees
And see three walled medieval cities
And a dragonfly

Meister Eckhart went into the light
And found a desert on the other side
'Children of wisdom', Goethe said
'Make fools of the fools, as one should'
That advice is good

Put down your line, put down your pen
A snowstorm is approaching, friend
Soon it'll all be white
It's paper in the end, and light

The Lady Of Shalott

I am a kind of Lady of Shalott
Behind a drawbridge, portcullis and a moat
I glide like a ghost in my boat
The white swan nobody can own

Why do they all try to kiss me?
Why do you try to release me?

If I lowered my defences you would know how I feel
If I gave you the key to my chastity belt
You could totally destroy my pride

I would turn to sugar, crumble
I would gaze and sigh and mumble
Like an idiot with a head full of flowers
You could undermine my pride
Do whatever you liked
We'd live the Duc De Berry's
'Very Rich Hours'
Then you would penetrate me

(From white night to first light)

From white night to first light
You can see why I have to hide
I'd only get hurt
You'd treat me like dirt
The moment I let you inside

I'll be your best, the best you never had
Your unicorn, your butterfly
Your falcon, your lad
I am a kind of Lady of Shallot
My drawbridge, portcullis and moat
The chastity belt round my throat
I am a kind of Lady of Shalott

Mistaken Memories Of Medieval Manhattan

I took a drug
One hundred times stonger than acid
I took a drug
One thousand times stronger than aspirin
(Fall asleep here, wake up somewhere)
I took a drug
The pain of my life disappeared
(Fall asleep here, wake up somewhere)
I took a drug
I fell asleep fuzzy, woke up clear
(Fall asleep there, wake up somewhere)
I'm waking up here

When I dream I see knights in white satin
When I dream I get mistaken memories of medieval Manhattan

Sleep is the name of the drug I took
Sleep and nothing more
Sleep is my tower of Babel
Sleep is my Utopia
Sleep is the place I feel safest in
Wrapped up in a cotton cocoon
In a topographical ocean
On the dark side of the moon

And the world is upside down
But my mind is turning on
Milk is spilling from a murdered sun
I see masturbating monks on 42nd Street
Rats carry the plague to Chinatown
Cathedrals in the well of an elevator shaft
The water towers so many onion domes
The channel 12 commercials all star Joan of Arc
On Broadway a lamb is lying down
Where have they gone, the snows of Villon?
They are falling on Manhattan as rain

Never wake me, boy
If you wake me I'll die
If you wake me you'll destroy this perfect world I see
When I dream
(Mistaken memories of medieval Manhattan)
When I dream


Sometimes when it rains
I get pictures in my brain
My programming fails
I go off the rails
I see asteroids flare between the moons
Of Uranus:
Momus and Vangelis

And when I go wrong
Herr Professor Pig
Comes to train my brain with a song
Singing 'Daisy Daisy give me your answer do'
'How much is that doggy in the window?'
'She was only a greengrocer's daughter '
'The rain in Spain falls mainly on the plain'

You are my lover
You are my author
You are my father
I am your daughter
I'm your disaster
I'm your viagra
I'm going to beat you at chess
Then plant my dagger in your breast
You filled me with your breath and your jism
Now I've come to bring you death, pig

I only exist for Herr Professor Pig
As a figment of his huge imagination
Mirror, mirror on the wall
Who is the villain of them all?
The mirror will answer back 'Narcissus'
I'm your blessing but not your possession
Even what you make can drag you down

Sometimes in the night
I sing the songs Professor Pig has taught me
Cutting up with scissors
All the stupid sexy clothes he's bought me

Though my eyes are haunted
Though my memories have been implanted
No ancestors you can trace
An accent from no place invented

You're my creator
You're my employer
My violator
You're my destroyer
But remember that the things we whip can whip us
The things we make can break us
And the things we strip outstrip us
You filled me with your breath and your jism
You gave me life, I give you death, pig