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Elvis Costello
Elvis Costello


Background information
Birth name Declan Patrick MacManus
Born August 25, 1954
Born place Paddington, London, England
Genre(s) Pub Rock
New Wave
Years active 1970—present
Label(s) Island Records
Columbia Records
Mercury Records
Lost Highway Records
Verve Records
Deutsche Grammophon
Hip-O Records
Stiff Records
Associated acts Diana Krall
Burt Bacharach
Brodsky Quartet
Website Website



Music World  →  Lyrics  →  E  →  Elvis Costello  →  Albums  →  Trust

Elvis Costello Album


Trust (1981)
1981
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. . .


With a handful of backhanders and a bevy of beauty
You're going off limits
Going off duty
Going off the rails
Going off with booty
They tell tales of fiction found on all the criminal types
Lead to a higher ranking man or a face with thin red stripes
Chorus:
The boys next door
The mums and dads
New weds and nearly-deads
Have you ever been had in Clubland?

There's a piece in someone's pocket to do the dirty work
You've come to shoot the pony
They've come to do the jerk
They leave him half way to paradise
They leave you half way to bliss
The ladies' invitation never seemed like this

Chorus

The long arm of the law slides up the outskirts of town
Meanwhile in Clubland they are ready to pull them down
Hey

The right to work is traded in for the right to refuse admission
Don't pass out now, there's no refund
(when) Did you find out what you were missing
The crowd is taking forty winks minus ten percent
You barely get required sleep to go lingering with contemptment
Thursday to Saturday
Money's gone already
Some things come in common these days
Your hands and work aren't steady

Chorus

. . .


I won't walk with my head bowed
(Be on) Beyond caution where lovers walk
My love walks where three's a crowd
Beyond caution where lovers walk
Lovers walk, lovers scramble
Beyond caution where the lovers walk
Lovers step, shuffle and gamble
Beyond caution where lovers walk

Lovers trip, lovers stumble
Lovers dip, lovers fumble
Lovers lip where love has crumbled
Beyond caution where lovers walk

Lovers strut, lovers stroll, lovers leap
Lovers late, lovers wait
Making promises that they can't keep
Lovers link up arm and arm
Lovers slink up, lovers charm
Lovers drink up and come to harm
Beyond caution where lovers walk

Love is gone and it's no one's fault
Love has stopped here, lovers halt
Lovers don't walk, lovers run
Will you look what love has done
Will you look what love has done
Will you look what love has done
Beyond caution where lovers walk

Now love's limping on a lover's crutch
Looking for a hand with a personal touch
Beyond caution where lovers walk

. . .


You need protection from the physical art of conversation
Though the fist is mightier than the lip, it adds the aggravation
Bridge and Chorus:
I got the password
I got persuasion
A proposition for invasion of your privacy
Give yourself away and find the fake in me
You'll never be a man
No matter how many foreign bodies you can take
You'll never be a man
When you're half a woman and you're half awake
With a face full of tears and a chemical shake
Under the table with a chemical shake
Given half a chance, that I can take
Are you so superior, are you in such pain
Are you made out of porcelain?
When they made you they broke the cast
Don't wanna be first, I just want to last

You strike a profile on the low side of my imagination
My eyes climbed down to find the point of possible saturation

Bridge and Chorus

. . .


I ask you nicely
Get my face slapped under wraps
What's going on precisely
Is there something wrong perhaps?
Surprise, surprise (surprise, surprise)
It's more like a booby trap than a booby prize

Civil disobedience from a soldier with a dirty rifle
You're loosening all the screws that hold the hinges of my life

Fat cats and army brats
Hep cats and dog tags pawing over girly mags

Chorus:
Pretty words don't mean much anymore
I don't mean to be mean much anymore
All I see are snapshots, big shots, tender spots
(1) mug shots, machine slots
(2) machine slots, mug shots
Till you don't know what's what
You don't know what you got

Curious women running after curious men
Curiosity didn't kill the cat
It was a poisoned pen
But there's not much choice (it's Hobson's choice)
Between a cruel mouth and a jealous voice

Got back to London
Picked a paper from the mat
No words of consolation
Just cartoons and chitter chatter
Well well, fancy that
Millions murdered for a kiss me quick hat
No backbone, blood and guts
Better keep your big mouth shut

Chorus

. . .


There's a hand on a wire that leads to my mouth
I can hear you knocking but I'm not coming out
Don't want to be a puppet or a ventriloquist
'Cause there's no ventilation on a critical list
Fingers creeping up my spine are not mine to resist
Strict time
Chorus:
Toughen up, toughen up
Keep your lip buttoned up
Strict time

Oh the muscles flex and the fingers curl
And a cold sweat breaks out on the sweater girl
Strict time
Oh he's all hands, don't touch that dial
The courting cold wars weekend witch trial
Strict time
All the boys are straight laced and the girls are frigid
The talk is two-faced and the rules are rigid 'cause it's strict time
Strict time

Chorus

You talk in hushed tones, I talk in lush tones
Try to look Italian through the musical Valium
Strict time
Thinking of grand larceny
Smoking the everlasting cigarette of chastity
Cute assistants staying alive
More like a hand job than the hand jive
Strict time

Chorus

. . .


Dressed up like a dog's dinner
Butter wouldn't melt on your paws
If this is a dog's life
Then you're the cat's clothes
They hire out your sons
And hire out your daughters
The man from abroad says he's already bought her
And now you look like a lover but you're only a tourist
Chorus:
You're either talking or yawning
You didn't listen to a thing you heard
Don't start your morning moaning or you might wake up in Luxembourg

You get over
You're worried by her body
She's worryin' about her bodily odour
You pull off
The pull over
You say that you love her when you really loathe her
Serves you right now she wants you to feed her and clothe her

Chorus

They're smiling sweetly while they're looking daggers
Kick you where it really matters
Send all your friends to Coventry
And look for your name in last night's obituaries

If you've got the Deutschmarks
If you've got the Yen, then
You get the shirt off her back and the clock off Big Ben
Somebody's soft touch
Struck all these bargains
In the drinking clubs with the council men
Making plans to put lead back in their pencils again

Chorus

. . .


Don't say a word
Don't say anything
Don't say a word
I'm not even listening
I read in the paper about their escape
They're just two bit of kids from a bunch of sour grapes
You better watch your step
Watch who's knocking on your front door
Now you know that they're watching
What are you waiting for?
Think you're young and original
Get out before...
They get to watch your step

Ev'ry day is full of fun
And family spies
They're making heroes out of fall guys
They say it's good for business
From Singapore to Widnes
You better watch your step

Broken noses hung up on the wall
Back slapping drinkers cheer the heavy weight brawl
So punch drunk they don't understand at all
You better watch your step

Ev'ry night
Go out full of carnal (carnival) desires
End up in the closing time choirs

When you're kicking in the car chrome
And you're drinking down the Eau de Cologne
And you're spitting out the Kodachrome
You better watch your step

Bye
I send you all my regards
You're so tough
You're so hard
Listen to the hammers falling in the breaker's yard
You better watch your step
You better watch your step
Ooh, watch your step

. . .


Bad lovers face to face in the morning
Shy apologies and polite regrets
Slow dances that left no warning of
Outraged glances and indiscreet yawning
Good manners and bad breath get you nowhere
Even presidents have newspaper lovers
Ministers go crawling under covers
She's no angel
He's no saint
They're all covered up with white washed grease paint
And you say...
Chorus:
The teacher never told you anything but white lies
But you never see the lies
And you believe
Oh you know you have been captured
You feel so civilized
And you look so pretty in your new lace sleeves

The salty lips of the socialite sisters
With their continental fingers that have
never seen working blisters
Oh I know they've got their problems
I wish I was one of them
They say daddy's coming home soon
With his sergeant stripes and his Empire mug and spoon

No more fast buck
And when are they gonna learn their lesson
When are they gonna stop all of these victory processions
And you say...

Chorus

. . .


Oh it's not easy to resist temptation
Walking around looking like a figment of somebody else's imagination
Taking ev'ry word she says just like an open invitation
But the power of persuasion is no match for anticipation
Chorus:
Like a finger running down a seam
From a whisper to a scream
So I whisper and I scream
But don't get me wrong
Please don't leave me waitin' too long
Waitin' too long
Waitin' too long
Waitin' too long
Hey

Oh oh oh oh oh

Oh if the customers like it then they'll keep on paying
If they keep on drinking then they'll end up staying
I heard someone say where have we met before
But the one over the eight seem less like one or more like four

Chorus

. . .


Please put your rings on a diff'rent finger if you meet me tonight
'Cause I can't stand those suspicious glances
'Cause I know the things they're saying are right
They're saying why don't you straighten up
And see what you've got to lose
Put it all down to fate but you still got the chance to choose

I don't want to hear your whole life story
Or about my strange resemblance to some old flame
All I want is one night of glory
I don't even know your second name

Please put your rings on a diff'rent finger
'cause we've got so much at stake
I can't stand those suspicious glances
'Cause they seem to cover ev'ry move I make

But if I can be alone with you completely tonight
Put your rings on a diff'rent finger
Before I turn out the light

. . .


White knuckles came down to put the frighteners on
I believe she's the one that he's got his heart set on
It doesn't matter if your face doesn't fit
There's no charge for changing it
Oooh ooh
What are you doing
You see right through him
You don't have to take it when he gets cruel

Chorus:
White knuckles on black and blue skin
(1,4) You don't have to take it so you just give in
(2,3) He didn't mean to hit her but she kept laughing
White knuckles sweatin' on the headboard
He never found out what the kisser was for

Losing face with the boys while she's whispering in his ear
They never found out why they called it laughing gear
Maybe they weren't loved when they were young
Maybe they should be hung by their tongues

Oooh ooh
Under the blankets with the body jerk
He needs her like the axe needs the turkey
Making a mockery of his fancy footwork

Chorus

There's always someone new to toy
with when the penny drops in the slot
Now it's all petty crime on the news at nine
But it's all she's got
Love on the never never dreams don't come cheap
I don't close my eyes when I go to sleep

Oooh ooh
It gets right under your skin
It makes you as miserable as sin but
you don't have to take it so you just give in

Chorus

Why don't you come round anymore
Mama said
He's using you
Sister said
I told you so too
When he goes through your head
You took him to be true

. . .


How does it feel now you've been undressed
by a man with a mind like the gutter press
So disappointed to find it's no big sin
Lying skin to skin
Chorus:

Shot with his own gun
Now dad is keeping mum
Shot with his own gun

Now somebody has to pay for the one who got away

What's on his mind now is anyone's guess
Losing his touch with each caress
Spending ev'ry evening looking so appealing
He comes without warning
Leaves without feeling

Chorus

On your marks, man, ready, set
Let's get loaded and forget

The little corporal got in the way
And he got hit by an emotional ricochet
It's a bit more now than dressing up dolly
Playing house seems so melancholy

Chorus

Oh it's too sad to be true
Your blue murder's killing you

. . .


When Sunday morning dandruff turns out to be confetti
And the cost of living in sin would make a poor man out of Paul Getty
The girl in your dreams would have you up on an under age charge
And the man of the moment is the lifer at large
Chorus:
If you've got something to hide, if you've got something to sell
If you've got somebody's pride she might kiss and tell
Or wind up with a fight fan in the Hammersmith Hotel
You better speak up now if you want your piece
You better speak up now
It won't mean a thing later
Yesterday's news is tomorrow's fish and chip paper

Your girl says she's leaving and this time she really means it
You can just look at the pictures, you don't actually have to read it
Ooh ooh ooh ooh ooh ooh ooh
There's a man in the launderette
and he's looking through your underwear
for clues
And the milkman is working through the News of the Screws

He says...
Chorus

. . .


Sheep to the slaughter oh I thought this must be love
All your sons and daughters in a strangle hold with a kid glove
She's got eyes like saucers oh you think she's a dish
She is the blue chip that belongs to the big fish
Chorus:
But it's easier to say "I love you,"
than "Yours sincerely" I suppose
All little sisters like to try on big sister's clothes
Big sister's clothes

The sport of kings, the old queen's heart
The prince in darkness stole some tart
And it's in the papers, it's in the charts
It's in the stop press before it all starts.

With a hammer on the slap and tickle under grisly garments
With all the style and finesse of the purchase of armaments
Compassion went out of fashion
That's all your concern meant
Sweat it out for thirty seconds on home improvements

Chorus

. . .


Vain boys are gonna have to swallow their pride this time
So let the punishment fit the crime
It's under the table
Under your skin
Into the cable
Is this the death of the glory you're in?
Chorus:
Black sails in the sunset
White noise going yakety-yak
All the money in the world will never bring your body back
Is it some mysterious dance nobody can do?
Thought I knew all the steps quite clearly
I don't have a clue
Oooh

You're Cinderella with a ball and chain
And the shoe seems to fit you
You tell the truth sometimes but
You wouldn't know it if it hit you
Is this some new trick
Wired up in your head?
Do you make me sick
Or was I just force fed?

Chorus

. . .


Sheep to the slaughter
Oh, this must be love
All your sons and daughters in a strangle, all with a kid glove
Eyes like saucers; oh, you think she's a dish
She is the blue chip that belongs to the big fish
Big sister will be watching over you
Sister see, sister do
She's got to save me
She's got you playing Russian Roulette
Sport of kings, the old queen's heart
The prince of darkness stole some tart
It's in the papers, it's in the charts
It's in the stop press before it all starts

With a hammer and a slap 'n' tickle in inquisitive garments
With all the style and finesse of the purchase of armaments
Compassion went out of fashion, that's all your concernment
Sweat it out for thirty seconds on all the prudeness

Big sister will be watching over you
Sister see, sister do
She's got to save me
She's got you playing Russian Roulette
She's got to save me
She's got you playing Russian Roulette

. . .


To all the girls that awake to escape in the morning
You want to leave him without even a warning, a trace, or a calling card
Sad about girls who know perfectly well why he's so sad about this girl
He's so mad about this girl tonight

So understanding--oh, she's so undemanding
So in control, so on the whole--she's so good to you until it gets to you
Sad about girls in your polythene world
Where you unwrap and rewrap and know when she leaves
That the next girl to suffer, putting you [posed?]
Unwrap and love you before she can know you
She's just got to show you the way that you're gonna be sad

Sad about girls that awake to escape in the morning
Get up and leave without even a warning
But no where is sad as the girls in the night
So ready to please you, so ready to bite
Sad about girls who know perfectly well he's so sad about this girl
You're so sad about your girl tonight

Sad about girls tonight
So sad about girls tonight

. . .


You say you don't desire me
You only tire me
Now you'll hire me
Expensive care is meaningless
Feeling nothing and caring less
Cut off at the passion
She knows where you're headed
She wants double time
Or a temporary wedding
Chorus:
And the lucky girl leads a life of leisure
With 45 years for seconds of pleasure
The hands on the clock move so precisely
And I only kiss but once or twice
I can't help you now,
I can't help myself
'Cause the time's running out
And it's twenty-five to twelve

Crowds surround loudspeakers
On the lampposts
Listening to the murder mystery
Meanwhile someone's in the classroom
Busy forging books on history
Wouldn't give that man my hand
He'd steal my fingers
So the sleuth ends up in stitches
And your urges turn to itches

Chorus

I was committed to life
And then commuted to the outskirts
I was living with thirty minutes at a time
With a break in the middle for adverts
See the human furniture
But its only for show
Now you can look all that you like
But they only let you touch and go

Chorus

. . .


When the only sound on the empty street
Is the heavy tread of the heavy feet
That belong to a lonesome cop
I open shop
When the moon so long has been gazing down
On the wayward ways of a wayward town
That a smile becomes a smirk
I go to work

Love for sale
Appetizing young love for sale
Love that's fresh and still unspoiled
Love that's only slightly soiled
Love for sale

Who will buy? Who would like to sample my supply?
Who's prepared to pay the price for a trip to paradise?
Love for sale

Let the poets pipe of love in their childish ways
I know every kind of love better far than they
If you want the thrill of love, I've been through the mill of love
Old love, new love
Every kind but true love

For sale
Appetizing young love for sale
If you want to buy my wares
Follow me and climb the stairs
Love for sale
Love for sale

. . .


Sunday is gloomy, my hours are slumberless
Dearest, the shadows I live with are numberless
Little white flowers will never awaken you
Not when the black coach of sorrow has taken you
Angels have no thought of ever returning you
Would they be angry if I thought of joining you?
Gloomy Sunday

Gloomy is Sunday, with shadows I spend it all
My heart and I have decided to end it all
Soon there'll be flowers and prayers that are sad, I know
Let them not weep, let them know that I'm glad to go
Death is no dream, for in death I am caressing you
With the last breath of my heart I'll be blessing you
Gloomy Sunday

Dreaming, I was only dreaming

I wake and I find you asleep in the deep of my heart, deep
Darling, I hope that my dream never haunted you
My heart is telling you how much I wanted you
Gloomy Sunday

. . .


I feel like a boy with a problem
I can't remember what I've forgotten
All because I slapped your face and made you cry
It's the last thing I want to do
Pull the curtains on me and you
Pull the carpet from under love
Pull the bow out of Cupid's view

You swore you wouldn't shout
It's not your punch then it's your pout
Days in silence try my temper
Nights spent drinking to remember
How memories are always tender

I crept out last night behind your back
The little they know might be the piece I lack
Came home drunk
Staggering words
I've had a drink
Invited some girls tonight
I've got a problem but let's go to bed
I can roll over and I can play dead
But here I am in the doghouse instead

I feel like a boy with a problem
I can't recall what I've forgotten
Sleeping with forgiveness in your heart for me

. . .


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