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Manic Street Preachers
Manic Street Preachers


Background information
Origin Blackwood, Caerphilly, Wales, United Kingdom
Genre(s) Alternative Rock
Britpop
Punk Rock
Years active 1986—present
Label(s) Columbia Records
Website Website
Members
James Dean Bradfield
Nicky Wire
Sean Moore
Former members
Richey Edwards



Music World  →  Lyrics  →  M  →  Manic Street Preachers  →  Albums  →  Gold Against The Soul

Manic Street Preachers Album


Gold Against The Soul (06/21/1993)
06/21/1993
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(Words: Nicky Wire/Richey James; Music: James Dean Bradfield/Sean Moore)

Morning always seems too stale to justify
Lament blossoms, hours minutes of our lives
Broken thoughts run through your empty mind
At least a beaten dog knows how to lie

I feel like I'm missing pieces of sleep
A memory fades to a, a pale landscape
You were an extinction, a desert heat
A blind illness of my anxiety

Endless hours in bed, no peace, in this mind
No one knows the hell where innocence dies
Fragments crawling like cobwebs on stone
Blows away the safety only a sleeping pill knows

I feel like I'm missing pieces of sleep
A memory fades to a, a pale landscape
You were an extinction, a desert heat
A blind illness of my anxiety

I feel like I'm missing pieces of sleep
A memory fades to a, a pale landscape
You were an extinction, a desert heat

. . .


(Words: Nicky Wire/Richey James; Music: James Dean Bradfield/Sean Moore)

I write this alone on my bed
I've poisoned every room in the house
The place is quiet and so alone
Pretend there's something worth waiting for

There's nothing nice in my head
The adult world took it all away
I wake up with same spit in my mouth
I cannot tell if it is real or not

I try and walk in a straight line
An imitation of dignity
From despair to where
From despair to where

Outside open mouthed crowds
Pass each other as if they're drugged
Down pale corridors of routine
Where life falls unatoned

The weak kick like straw
Till the world means less and less
Words are never enough
Just cheap tarnished glitter

I try and walk in a straight line
An imitation of dignity
From despair to where
From despair to where

A cripple walks in a straight line
An imitation of dignity
From despair to where

. . .


(Words: Nicky Wire/Richey James; Music: James Dean Bradfield/Sean Moore)

Life has been unfaithful
And it all promised so so much
I am a relic
I am just a petrified cry
Wheeled out once a year, a cenotaph souvenir
The applause nails down my silence

La tristesse durera
Scream to a sigh, to a sigh
La tristesse durera
Scream to a sigh, to a sigh

I see liberals
I am just a fashion accessory
People send postcards
And they all hope I'm feeling well
I retreat into self-pity, it's so easy
Where they patronise my misery

La tristesse durera
Scream to a sigh, to a sigh
La tristesse durera
Scream to a sigh, to a sigh

La tristesse durera
Scream to a sigh, to a sigh
La tristesse durera
Scream to a sigh, to a sigh

I sold my medal
It paid a bill
It sells at market stalls
Parades Milan catwalks
Oh, the sadness will never go
Will never go away
Baby it's here to stay
La tristesse durera

. . .


(Words: Nicky Wire/Richey James; Music: James Dean Bradfield/Sean Moore)

Your ritual everyday
A mild shower soak in aftershave
Best clothes do your best
Look in the mirror go on
Belittle yourself yourself yourself
Belittle yourself yourself yourself

You go on day after day
Dreaming on a lie
That you keep locked inside
Of yourself
Yourself
Yourself
Of yourself
Yourself
Yourself

Can you sleep tonight
Cast aside for some pouting young pup
Sink into a slurred veneer
Alcoholic haze so now
Least you can like yourself yourself
Least you can like yourself yourself

You go on day after day
Reservoirs of guilt
That your fixed grin always hides
And yourself
Yourself
Yourself
Of yourself
Yourself
Yourself
And yourself
Yourself
Yourself
Of yourself
Yourself
Yourself

You look at ad's all day
Everyone is perfect and you're so lame
Free scent burns your skin
But no smell can really cover sin
Too many teenage holes to fill
Too many teenage holes to fill

You go on day after day
Speak to your despised
Blanking your loved ones
And yourself
Yourself
Yourself
And yourself
Yourself
Yourself

. . .


(Words: Nicky Wire/Richey James; Music: James Dean Bradfield/Sean Moore)

Childbirth tears upon her muscle
Very first second a screaming icon
Babies in time barely even recognise
Words that once stroked now bruising tired lips

My idea of love comes from
A childhood glimpse of pornography
Though there is no true love
Just a finely tuned jealousy

Life becoming a landslide
Ice freezing nature dead
Life becoming a landslide
I don't wanna be a man

Everyday more numb to agony
This the howl this the sigh of the lonely
One day I realise oil on canvas
Can never paint a petal so so delicate

My idea of love comes from
A childhood glimpse of pornography
Though there is no true love
Just a finely tuned jealousy

Life becoming a landslide
Ice freezing nature dead
Life becoming a landslide
I don't wanna be a man
Life becoming a landslide
Ice freezing nature dead
Life becoming a landslide
I don't wanna be a...

My idea of love comes from
A childhood glimpse of pornography
Though there is no true love
Just a finely tuned jealousy

Life becoming a landslide
A mile empty inside
Life becoming a landslide
Desire on its knees
Life becoming a landslide
A mile empty inside
Life becoming a landslide
Desire on its knees

. . .


(Words: Nicky Wire/Richey James; Music: James Dean Bradfield/Sean Moore)

So much fun to be had in my head
No more sunshine
So much fun just lying in my bed
No more sunshine
I can't face the sunlight and the dirt outside
Wanna stay in 666 where this darkness don't lie

Drug drug druggy
Got a feeling sweet like honey
Drug drug druggy
I need sensation like my baby
Show me your scars you're so aware
I'm not barbaric I just care
Drug drug drug

I need a reflection to prove I exist
No more sunshine
I am a victim of designer blitz
No more sunshine
Dance like a robot when you're chained at the knee
The C.I.A. say you're all they'll ever need

Drug drug druggy
Got a feeling sweet like honey
Drug drug druggy
I need sensation like my baby
Snort your lines you're so aware
I'm not barbaric I just care
Drug drug drug

Drug drug druggy
Got a feeling sweet like honey
Drug drug druggy
I need sensation like my baby
Drug drug druggy
Drug drug druggy
Drug drug druggy

A B C D E

. . .


(Words: Nicky Wire/Richey James; Music: James Dean Bradfield/Sean Moore)

Roses in the hospital
Try to pull my fingernails out
Roses in the hospital
I want to cling to something soft
Roses in the hospital
Progressing like a constant war
Roses in the hospital
There's no one to feel ashamed for

All we wanted was a home
Now we are so strung out we wanna own
Like a leaf in the autumn breeze
Like a flood in January
We don't want your fucking love

Roses in the hospital
Stub cigarettes out on my arm
Roses in the hospital
Want to feel something of value
Roses in the hospital
Nothing really makes me happy
Roses in the hospital
Heroin is just too trendy

All we wanted was a home
Now we are so strung out we wanna own
Like a leaf in the autumn breeze
Like a flood in January
We don't want your fucking love

Roses in the hospital
This century achieved so much
Roses in the hospital
To make a voice no voice at all
Roses in the hospital
Flowers cannot express the loss
Roses in the hospital
Torn reflections of burnt out trash
Of burnt out trash

Forever ever delayed
Forever ever delayed
Forever
Forever

Forever ever delayed
(Indepencence is a game)
Forever ever delayed
(Credibility, I'm yawning)
Forever
Forever
(Rudi Rudi Rudi Rudi Rudi Rudi Rudi Rudi gonna fail)

Forever ever delayed
Forever delayed
Forever
Forever

Forever delayed
(The west scratches onto my skin)
Forever delayed
(Contagious like a suntain)
We never felt any sun, any sun

. . .


(Words: Nicky Wire/Richey James; Music: James Dean Bradfield/Sean Moore)

One two three four five six seven eight

I am the raping sunglass gaze
Of sweating man and escort agencies
60's Alienation the anthem of care
Now a knife constantly slashing eyelids

Slavery to the beat
Slavery to the chord
Slavery to the pleasure
Slavery to the God
Slavery to the beat
Slavery to the chord
Slavery to the pleasure
Slavery to the God

They dig the new scene and their parties
Where stonehenge is worshipped and drugs a deity
Vicarious thrills re-run their youth
We follow we have no voice the dead
Radio nostalgia is radio death
I wanna cover diamonds on my wife
Hardrock nostalgia the Stones on CD
Tranquilised icons for the sweet paralysed

Slavery to the beat
Slavery to the chord
Slavery to the pleasure
Slavery to the God
Slavery to the beat
Slavery to the chord
Slavery to the pleasure
Slavery to the God

So cool the new sound of the decade
Thinks it's so fresh not a post Elvis still
All taste is nothing old pictures blowdried
Rebellion it always sells at a profit
I am a face of fashion in Soho Square
My tie is Paul Smith or Gaultier
My cheeks blood red as my favourite port
But hey cocaine keeps cholesterol at bay

Slavery to the beat
Slavery to the chord
Slavery to the pleasure
Slavery to the God
Slavery to the beat
Slavery to the chord
Slavery to the pleasure
Slavery to the God
Some god

. . .


(Words: Nicky Wire/Richey James; Music: James Dean Bradfield/Sean Moore)

Stutter stutter says the little boy
I wanna blow a hole in my head
I swear what this world wants to hear
Trapped in what we know as truth syndrome
Stutter stutter silence no friend

Childern can be cruel she said
So I smashed her in the fucking head
Sorry dear that's the nature of Tourette

Stutter stutter nothing else but me
I twitch and turn while underneath
My contemporaries are so in control
Fuck you fuck you I grunt and groan
Stutter stutter can't keep it no more

Children can be cruel she said
So I smashed her in the fucking head
Sorry dear that's the nature of Tourette

Stutter stutter are your eyes closed
You know a hole through which you can fall
But I can't even be bothered to hang on
When you're this numb news don't register
I just opened my eyes


Gilles de La Tourette syndrome - A condition of severe and multiple tics, including vocal tics and involuntary obscene speech (coprolalia). The patient may also involuntarily repeat or imitate the actions of others. The condition usually starts in childhood and becomes chronic; the causes are unknown.


. . .


(Words: Nicky Wire/Richey James; Music: James Dean Bradfield/Sean Moore)

Somebody told me to vote conservative
Tragedy is not known under this dimmest of lights
Everybody feels sick by the courtesy of dismay
Was I schooled without direction

Gold against the soul
Rock n' roll has a conscience
It supplies convenience
Gold against
Against the soul
Against the soul

Close the pits sanctify Roy Lynk an O.B.E.
Shareholding a piece of this fucking country
Fossilize - make Yorkshire into a tourist resort
And dream of new ways to humble the poor

Gold against the soul
White liberal hates slavery
Needs Thai labour to clean his home
Gold erodes
Erodes the soul
Erodes the soul

A 1000 Marlboro death ignored everyday
And who gives a shit about sexuality

Gold against the soul
Working class cliches start here
Either cloth caps of smack victims
Gold destroyed
Destroyed the soul
Destroyed the soul


. . .


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