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Too Much Information
Say hello to the mother of all confessions. Take your seats now the curtain starts to rise. Jimmy got shot by his pregnant wife for bringing such shame into their life. She cut him short with a dirty old rusty knife. This is too much information. You′re telling me things I don’t want to know. Too much information. You′re murdering the magic on your monster show – no. Here she comes hanging out her dirty washing. She won’t miss a chance to present the latest stain. Molly got mauled by a guinea pig. Now she’s got a cheap misshapen wig. Didn′t stop her making eighteen aberrant kids. Jerry made a move to replace his legs with caterpillar tracks and a cylinder head. Now he sleeping sound with a crankshaft in his bed.
Riding the drones of a low low hum. Cutting the phone as the lights start fading. This is no more than a prison cell. She′s in here and she’s not well. Heart and soul all leaked from a broken shell. Counting the stacks of unopened mail. Biting the floor as the room starts spinning. She couldn′t take this anymore. Drunk her fears into the bathroom floor. Heart and soul escaped from an open door. She wakes up, she calls in sick with a hangover. She hangs up and bites her lip with a moment of doubt. The silence surrounds this liberated girl. The greatest ever feeling in the world. Taking the time for an acid test. Recording the moment of realisation. Maybe it’s time for a big new space. This could work in a different place. Heart and soul returns to her pretty face.
Head in My Hands
Oh no, what have you done? I wrote you a list, with the things you should resist. My head′s in the wall now you’ve gone, you′ve gone and done them all. You’re crawling on a dirty floor. Vacuuming the dust, like you really really must. My head’s in my hands, now you′ve gone. You′ve gone and wrecked my plans. What happened to you this time? Who rifled the soul from this friend of mine? I’m writing you out of the book. Here comes the last paragraph so take a setimental look. My head′s in my hands, now you’ve gone. Now you′ve gone What happened to you this time? Who rifled the soul from this friend of mine? What happened to you this time? Who rifled the soul from this friend of mine? You know I’ll do everything I can but my head′s in my hands.
Condemnation, such an ugly thing. Never here when he’s with you. But when he watches as you’re closing the door, the fingers on the trigger, I don’t know what he’s going to do. Imagination, such a deadly thing. The mind can wander out of view. And when he thinks about the shrinking room, the fingers on the trigger, I don’t know what he’s going to do. Empty spaces, silent cavities. An empty chair still faces you. He closed the book before you got to the end. You’re looking in the mirror and you don’t know what you’re going to do. Imagination, such a deadly thing. The mind can wander out of view. And when he thinks about the shrinking room, the fingers on the trigger, I don’t know what he’s going to do.
Asleep at the Wheel
I see the flowers try and lift the room, but the overwhelming gloom tells me I should sit down and deliver nothing. Look at these old pictures on the wall, happy days them all and the bottle was that last nail in the coffin. It’s a rainy day and everyone’s in black. But once the wake is over, we’ll be back, armed with spades and sacks, burying our tracks, digging up the past. Yeah – we’re piecing you back together. Yeah yeah – we’re taking out the carbonite. With these new parts, you’ll last forever and ever. Yeah yeah we’re bringing you back to life. People talk about the words you said. And the letters that I read. And words are the things that last forever. And of course the pictures on the wall, they don’t convey it at all. That natural smile – yeah whatever!