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John Cale
John Cale


Background information
Birth name John Davies Cale[1]
Born March 9, 1942
Genre(s) Art Rock
Classical
Baroque Pop
Experimental Rock
Folk-Rock
Years active 1965—present
Label(s) Island Records
Reprise Records
Rhino Records
A&M Records
Associated acts Lou Reed
The Velvet Underground
Nico
Theater of Eternal Music
John Cage
Phil Manzanera
Brian Eno
Kevin Ayers
Website Website



Music World  →  Lyrics  →  J  →  John Cale  →  Albums  →  Caribbean Sunset

John Cale Album


Caribbean Sunset (1984)
1984
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If your hungry, hungry for love
See me, come see me 'bout love
If you're searching, searching for love
Find me and I'll give you me love
You can walk on water
Cause you're feeling strong
You can walk, you can walk on water

If you're waiting, waiting for love
I'll come find you, and give you all my love
If you're fighting, fighting for love
Don't surrender to nothing but love
You can walk on water
Cause you're feeling strong
You can walk, you can walk on water

So if you're thirsty, thirsty for love
Or you're crazy, crazy for love
You can see me, see me for love
Cause I'm hungry, hungry for love
You can see the writing
It's on the wall
You can see the writing

. . .


Turn the guitar up

Well, the goodness of your heart, she's crying
Let me out
Well, the goodness of your soul
You say goodbye
Well, there's only meat and dark of a vas
That says goodbye, hello, goodbye, hello, goodbye

Come on yell

And we'll spell all the sweet talk that I hear form you
And those voices can feed me all of the night
when they do, will they know
When they know, when they don't know nothing
When they say that I hurt you once before

Tijuana

They lead a life apart from everybody days in your mind
They like to feel so different when you watch them
Feel like flies
See
When you feel the night, feel the reason of the day

Do it again

When you see the night, you see the night
She loves the day

Tijuana

Go on, Dave, you trigger a film, it's still sore

Well, she talks too much to know much about anything
Christmas comes, like breakfast, but once a year
She does, seems just tired of living
Like a wall broke around her spell

Give me somewhere else to hold a live for
Give me something better to hope for
They'll give me anything they can
Give me anything you want to hang on to
Hold on, hold

. . .


When they grow up, the silly people who will run the world
When I'm thinking of the silly men
People trying to run the world
Something must be done about it
Something must be done right now
'bout the silly people trying to run the world

And I hear them call out my name when I run run
Then I hear them call out my name when I run
When I run, when I run, when I run run

But something must be done about it
Something must be done right now
About all the people trying to run the world
And they are whistling in the dark
I'm whistling for a friend
Whistling in the dark again

And we all fall down
And we all fall down
And we all fall down
And we all fall down
In a Modern Beirut Recital
In Model Beirut again
Modern Beirut Recital
Modern Beirut Recital
Again

The lady beggar hear them in the street
They're gonna break down the doors
They'll knock knock
Well, something must be done about it
About the silly people trying to break down my door
They break down the door
They break down the door
They break down the door

Whistling in the dark
I'm whistling for a friend
Whistling in the dark again

All fall down ...

Modern Beirut Recital
Model Beirut again

And we all fall down ...

Model Beirut again

. . .


She said no, she meant maybe
She said she wasn't that type of girl
When she'd done wrong, she'd never admit it
And I had empty pockets to prove it

She was so much like a foreign language
That you've learned but never understood
She said words just didn't matter
But when she needed them they always would

Caribbean, Caribbean, Caribbean
Caribbean, Caribbean, Caribbean Sunset
Caribbean, Caribbean Sunset
Caribbean, Caribbean Sunset

She'd rather sleep in the streets at night
Or she'd rather not sleep at all
She's not so sure of her friends these days
Not sure of anything at all

. . .


The Ministry of Music's having seconds thoughts again
About the past — aha
To debate and reconsider the evidence at hand
That the destiny of music will corrupt the heart of man
Defend the fool, offend the fool
Defend the fool, offend the fool
Pretend the fool will let you down

The world heard Krakatoa
An arrogant attitude
What's left of Krakatoa
Was blown halfway across the world
Into the heart of music
Into the heart of men
And angry Praetorian lovers rising up again
Offend the fool, defend the fool
Condemn the fool, condemn the fool
Pretend the fool will let you down

You can spot the James Dean forgeries by their uncertain ways
Like the underground musicians, nonchalant beggars of the day
Attended to by those accustomed to the bridle path
Pretenders to the Praetorian flame
Pretenders to the past
Offend the fool, defend the fool
Offend the fools, defend the fools
A forgery will always let you down

. . .


Nobody cares

Get down now, I wanna see it, come on
Come on

If we could live the lives of men
If we could live like men
Long lost caricatures of endless memories
What wouldn't be lost, what would be lost

Among those far-fetched alibis
There live some far-fetched lies
What wouldn't be lost if loud men died
Magazines of gun, magazines of gun
Magazines of gun
Magazines of gun

Ok now, go

All right

If we could fight the good fight
If we could fight like men
What wouldn't be lost if loud men died
Magazines of gun – magazines of gun
Magazines of gun – magazines of gun
Magazines of gun – magazines of gun

The boy wishes a gun, wishes a gun, raises a gun
He's covering his gun, is covering his gun, is covering his gun
He says: see me about it
Scream
Never again, never again, never again
Says: send me a letter that screams
Never again, never again, never again
Magazines of gun – magazines of gun
Oh magazines

. . .


Where there's a will there's a way
That words can convey
That in the heart lies the start of confusion
I didn't mean to offend when I called you my friend
That was my way of saying there's more smoke then fire
So goodbye, goodbye girl
Goodbye, goodbye girl
You could have had it all
Had the world

I hear this in ringing in my ears
The laughter and the tears
I should have known it would be back again
I should have seen it standing in the clear, clear light
In the clear, clear light shining through the darkest heart
That lives in the darkest night

I knew I'd see you again and again and again
Cause your ways are so easy to fathom
You think you life is so empty but it's really so full
All the things you never thought mattered
So goodbye, goodbye girl

. . .


When you feel the crush in the streets
And the people in the city
And the walls are closing in on you
You gotta get out of town, get away
Get away for the weekend
Hey hey – hey hey

You find when you get there
You've been dreaming in the city
Dreaming in the city – hey hey
There's a place we found
When they're running with the hounds
Riding in the country
Riding with the hounds
Hey hey – hey hey

In the brisk damn cold morning
The horses are restless
The horses are ready to run
Let them run
Here comes the fox
Here come the hounds
You follow the scent
You follow the blood on the ground
Hey hey

Dreamers, dreamers, dreamers, dreaming of the hunt
Dreamers, dreamers, dreamers, dreaming of the city
Ready to discover the taste of the fight
Ready to do the same and discover the dream of man

. . .


Sweet deal is going down in the Villa Albani
The deal's being discussed behind closed doors
The ink isn't dried on the paper
The conference is better begun
Handshakes have been rung at the Villa Albani
And the tom goes tom and the tom goes tomtom
And the gun goes gun and the gun goes gungun
And the bomb goes bomb and the bomb goes bombbomb

Winter's closing in around the Villa Albani
Sitting round the fire, getting cold feet
With holy men coming for breakfast
Blood is on the streets, rumours all over town
About the Villa Albani
And the tom goes tom ...

Limousines coming and going
Helicopters are taking off
Nobody's answering the phone
Nobody's picking up the mail
Nobody's getting the door bell
This is a house of failure
Sweet deal is breaking down in the Villa Albani

Happy in the darkest day, happy in the coldest night
When people look out the window to see, what did they see
At the Villa Albani

Rolling up the shutters they're carrying out the files
To the fire in the backyard
They're burning all the books
They're asking questions in town
And then they are going home for good
They are going home to care for their limousines and tanks

. . .


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