Template:Bedlam: Difference between revisions
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I've got this phosphorescent portrait of gentle Jesus meek and mild | I've got this phosphorescent portrait of gentle Jesus meek and mild<br> | ||
I've got this harlot that I'm stuck with carrying another man's child<br> | |||
I've got this harlot that I'm stuck with carrying another man's child | The solitary star announcing vacancy burned out as we arrived<br> | ||
They'd throw us back across the border if they knew that we survived<br> | |||
The solitary star announcing vacancy burned out as we arrived | And they were surprised to see us<br> | ||
So they greeted us with palms<br> | |||
They'd throw us back across the border if they knew that we survived | They asked for ammunition, acts of contrition and small alms<br> | ||
<br> | |||
And they were surprised to see us | And I might recite a small prayer<br> | ||
If I ever said them<br> | |||
So they greeted us with palms | I lay down on an iron frame<br> | ||
And found myself in bedlam<br> | |||
They asked for ammunition, acts of contrition and small alms | I wish that I could take something for drowning out the noise<br> | ||
Wailing echoes down the corridors<br> | |||
<br> | |||
I've got this imaginary radio, and I'm punching up the dial<br> | |||
And I might recite a small prayer | I've got the A.C. trained on the T.V. so it won't blow up in my eye<br> | ||
And everything I thought fanciful and mocked as too extreme<br> | |||
If I ever said them | Must be family entertainment here in the strange land of my dreams<br> | ||
And I'm practicing my likeness of St. Francis of Assisi<br> | |||
I lay down on an iron frame | And if I hold my hand outstretched<br> | ||
A little bird comes to me<br> | |||
And found myself in bedlam | <br> | ||
And I might recite a small prayer<br> | |||
I wish that I could take something for drowning out the noise | If I ever said them<br> | ||
I lay down on an iron frame<br> | |||
Wailing echoes down the corridors | And found myself in bedlam<br> | ||
Escaping from the fingers that were stretching through the bars<br> | |||
Wailing echoes down the corridors<br> | |||
<br> | |||
I've got this imaginary radio, and I'm punching up the dial | The player piano picks out "Life Goes On"<br> | ||
The ring tone rang out "Jerusalem"<br> | |||
I've got the A.C. trained on the T.V. so it won't blow up in my eye | Into the pit of sadness<br> | ||
Where the wretched plunge<br> | |||
And everything I thought fanciful and mocked as too extreme | We've buried all the innocents<br> | ||
Now we must bury revenge<br> | |||
Must be family entertainment here in the strange land of my dreams | <br> | ||
They've got this scared and decorated girl strapped to the steel trunk of a Mustang<br> | |||
And I'm practicing my likeness of St. Francis of Assisi | They drove her down a cypress grove where traitors hang and stars still spangle<br> | ||
They dangled flags and other rags along a coloured thread of twine<br> | |||
And if I hold my hand outstretched | They dragged that bruised and purple heart along the road to Palestine<br> | ||
<br> | |||
A little bird comes to me | Someone went off muttering, he mentioned thirty pieces<br> | ||
Easter saw a slaughtering, each wrapped in bloodstained fleeces<br> | |||
Then my thoughts returned to vengeance, but I put up no resistance<br> | |||
Though I seemed a long way from my home<br> | |||
And I might recite a small prayer | It really was no distance<br> | ||
<br> | |||
If I ever said them | And I might recite a small prayer<br> | ||
If I ever said them<br> | |||
I lay down on an iron frame | I lay down on an iron frame<br> | ||
And found myself in bedlam<br> | |||
And found myself in bedlam | Bowing like an actor acknowledging applause<br> | ||
Playing the Crusader who was conquering the Moors<br> | |||
Escaping from the fingers that were stretching through the bars | When he knew the consequences, but he won't admit the cause<br> | ||
Wailing echoes down the corridors<br> | |||
Wailing echoes down the corridors | |||
The player piano picks out "Life Goes On" | |||
The ring tone rang out "Jerusalem" | |||
Into the pit of sadness | |||
Where the wretched plunge | |||
We've buried all the innocents | |||
Now we must bury revenge | |||
They've got this scared and decorated girl strapped to the steel trunk of a Mustang | |||
They drove her down a cypress grove where traitors hang and stars still spangle | |||
They dangled flags and other rags along a coloured thread of twine | |||
They dragged that bruised and purple heart along the road to Palestine | |||
Someone went off muttering, he mentioned thirty pieces | |||
Easter saw a slaughtering, each wrapped in bloodstained fleeces | |||
Then my thoughts returned to vengeance, but I put up no resistance | |||
Though I seemed a long way from my home | |||
It really was no distance | |||
And I might recite a small prayer | |||
If I ever said them | |||
I lay down on an iron frame | |||
And found myself in bedlam | |||
Bowing like an actor acknowledging applause | |||
Playing the Crusader who was conquering the Moors | |||
When he knew the consequences, but he won't admit the cause | |||
Wailing echoes down the corridors | |||
Revision as of 18:12, 21 April 2009
I've got this phosphorescent portrait of gentle Jesus meek and mild
I've got this harlot that I'm stuck with carrying another man's child
The solitary star announcing vacancy burned out as we arrived
They'd throw us back across the border if they knew that we survived
And they were surprised to see us
So they greeted us with palms
They asked for ammunition, acts of contrition and small alms
And I might recite a small prayer
If I ever said them
I lay down on an iron frame
And found myself in bedlam
I wish that I could take something for drowning out the noise
Wailing echoes down the corridors
I've got this imaginary radio, and I'm punching up the dial
I've got the A.C. trained on the T.V. so it won't blow up in my eye
And everything I thought fanciful and mocked as too extreme
Must be family entertainment here in the strange land of my dreams
And I'm practicing my likeness of St. Francis of Assisi
And if I hold my hand outstretched
A little bird comes to me
And I might recite a small prayer
If I ever said them
I lay down on an iron frame
And found myself in bedlam
Escaping from the fingers that were stretching through the bars
Wailing echoes down the corridors
The player piano picks out "Life Goes On"
The ring tone rang out "Jerusalem"
Into the pit of sadness
Where the wretched plunge
We've buried all the innocents
Now we must bury revenge
They've got this scared and decorated girl strapped to the steel trunk of a Mustang
They drove her down a cypress grove where traitors hang and stars still spangle
They dangled flags and other rags along a coloured thread of twine
They dragged that bruised and purple heart along the road to Palestine
Someone went off muttering, he mentioned thirty pieces
Easter saw a slaughtering, each wrapped in bloodstained fleeces
Then my thoughts returned to vengeance, but I put up no resistance
Though I seemed a long way from my home
It really was no distance
And I might recite a small prayer
If I ever said them
I lay down on an iron frame
And found myself in bedlam
Bowing like an actor acknowledging applause
Playing the Crusader who was conquering the Moors
When he knew the consequences, but he won't admit the cause
Wailing echoes down the corridors
