I'm looking in my little black book
to see if I was right or rongwrong
within the confines of whoremonger logic
to even try to sing this song

I could have asked the I Ching
but that would have taken up too much time
And with the time before [Fall]
I didn't see there was no time to lose
If things got bad it could always turn into a blues
Like they do back home on the Delta –
grunt and groan

I'm looking in my little black book of European logic
Still I can't make head or tail of it
Ah, if I could only read between the lines
Think of all the treasures I might find
Learn the secret of trance and levitation
Liberate my soul in six easy lessons

Meanwhile I'll stay at home, listen to Schönberg in the bath
and leave you to the geometry of my laugh
to which you're welcome if it helps you at all
to get your rocks off and have a ball

Could there really be a thought that we have nothing to share?
We drink the same water and we breathe the same air

Deep down inside we need each other just the same
You need me to laugh at and I need you to blame
Il tuo voto:
(B. Eno)

Baby's on fire
Better throw her in the water
Look at her laughing
Like a heifer to the slaughter

Baby's on fire
And all the laughing boys are bitching
Waiting for photos
Oh the plot is so bewitching

Rescuers row row
Do your best to change the subject
Blow the wind blow blow
Lend some assistance to the object

Photographers snip snap
Take your time she's only burning
This kind of experience
Is necessary for her learning

If you'll be my flotsam
I could be half the man I used to
They said you were hot stuff
And that's what baby's been reduced to

Juanita and Juan
Very clever with maracas
Making their fortunes
Selling secondhand tobaccoes

Juan dances at Chico's
And when the clients are evicted
He empties the ashtrays
And pockets all that he's collected

But baby's on fire
And all the instruments agree that
Her temperature's rising
But any idiot would know that
Il tuo voto:
There are tins
There was pork
There are legs
There are sharks
There was John
There are cliffs
There was mother
There's a poker
There was you
Then there was you.


There are scenes
There are blues
There are boots
There are shoes
There are Turks
There are fools
They're in lockers
They're in schools
There in you
Then there was you.


Burn my fingers
Burn my toes
Burn my uncle
Burn his books
Burn his shoes
Cook the leather
Put it on me
Does it fit me
Or you?
It looks tight on you.
Il tuo voto:
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