. . .
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(Lyrics: Nick Jones; Music: James Dean Bradfield/Sean Moore)
Show me a wonder
You can't be sure of
I exist in a place
A self-made vacuum
But still stranded here
With all the scum
So clean - so lost - so beautiful
But I found that soul
Yeah I found that home
But I found that soul
But I found that soul
Yeah I found that now
But I found that soul
Not a subject
Not a subject am I
Sick and pale but
Strangely alive
Broken blood vessels
Line my cheeks
Reflections look bad
And somehow unreal
But I found that soul
Yeah I found that home
But I found that soul
But I found that soul
Yeah I found that now
But I found that soul
But I found that soul
Yeah I found that home
But I found that soul
But I found that soul
Yeah I found that now
But I found that soul
Show me a wonder
Show me a wonder
Show me a wonder
. . .
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(Lyrics: James Dean Bradfield; Music: James Dean Bradfield/Sean Moore)
Me-totemo-utsukushi-i-desu-ne,
Totemo-utsukushi-i-me-wo-shitemasu-ne *
It's easy to see, it's easy to see
To see only white where colour should be
It's easy to feel, it's easy to feel
But it's not good enough, even though it's real
Oh, please stay awake
And then we can drink some Ocean Spray
Oh, please stay awake
And then we can drink some Ocean Spray
It's easy to breathe, it's easy to grieve
To breathe only air where life should be
It's easy to laugh, it's easy to cry
To cry so so hard that it can't be denied
Oh, please stay awake
And then we can drink some Ocean Spray
Oh, please stay awake
And then we can drink some Ocean Spray
Oh, please stay awake
And then we can drink some Ocean Spray
Oh, please stay awake
And then we can drink some Ocean Spray
. . .
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(Lyrics: Nick Jones; Music: James Dean Bradfield/Sean Moore)
Into a vein exhibit the derelict
A secular mosaic distracted at birth
A Cubist abstraction let it live forever
Narcissim so lonely so live by the sea
What a mess
Cosmetic - polemic
Distinguished by relics
Destructive aesthetic
Intravenous agnostic
Intravenous agnostic
Intravenous agnostic
Intravenous agnostic
Intravenous
Brutality is needed in capitalist society
Television abandoned my very entity
Nature failed me
But then it made me
We all pray for pluralist babies
Cosmetic - polemic
Distinguished by relics
Destructive aesthetic
Intravenous agnostic
Intravenous agnostic
Intravenous agnostic
Intravenous agnostic
Intravenous
Dismayed - dispossessed
Life becomes Calvanist
So sparkle and believe
Linguistics die easily
Intravenous agnostic
Intravenous agnostic
Intravenous agnostic
. . .
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(Lyrics: Nick Jones; Music: James Dean Bradfield/Sean Moore)
Things get clear when I feel free
When whatever next comes easily
When gentle hands give life to me
When your eyes fill with tiny tears
When I'm this still you are my life
(When I'm this still you are my life)
So at ease in the midnight sky
(So at ease in the midnight sky)
But my insides will look like war
(But my insides will look like war)
Paralysed except through my thought
So why so sad
You live and you love
So why so sad
Dependent on above
Searchin' for the dead sea scrolls
So why, so why so sad
My smile as real as a hyena's
(My smile as real as a hyena's)
Burns an expressway to my skull
(Burns an expressway to my skull)
But I'll stick myself together again
Spirit so low I no longer pretend
So why so sad
You live and you love
So why so sad
Dependent on above
Searchin' for the dead sea scrolls
So why, so why so sad
So why so sad
You live and you love
So why so sad
Dependent on above
Searchin' for the dead sea scrolls
So why, so why so sad
So why, so why so sad
So why, so why so sad
. . .
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(Lyrics: Nick Jones; Music: James Dean Bradfield/Sean Moore)
Where are you now?
Broken up or still around?
The CIA says you're a guilty man
Will we see the likes of you again?
Can anyone make a difference anymore?
Can anyone write a protest song?
Pinky lefty revolutionary
Burnt at the stake for
A voice so pure - a vision so clear
I've gotta learn to live like you
Learn to sing like you
Went to Cuba to meet Castro
Never got past sleepy Moscow
A giant man with a heavenly voice
MK Ultra turned you paranoid
No passport 'til 1958
McCarthy poisoned through with hate
Liberty lost still buried today
Beneath the lie of the USA
Say what you want
Say what you want
A voice so pure - a vision so clear
I've gotta learn to live like you
Learn to sing like you
Now let the Freedom Train come zooming down the track
Gleaming in the sunlight for white and black
Not stopping at no stations marked colored nor white
Just stopping in the fields in the broad daylight
Stopping in the country in the wide open air
Where there never was a Jim Crow sign nowhere
And no lilly-white committees, politicians of note
Nor poll tax layer through which colored can't vote
And there won't be no kinda color lines
The Freedom Train will be yours
And mine
A voice so pure - a vision so clear
I've gotta learn to live like you
Learn to sing like you
Sing it loud, sing it proud
I will be heard, I will be found
Sing it loud, sing it proud
. . .
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(Lyrics: Nick Jones; Music: James Dean Bradfield/Sean Moore)
Detoxification
Purification
The ravaged corner
Cold and embittered
Run away - run away as fast as you can
From anything that needs discipline
The year of purification
The year of purification
Deification
Depopulation
Crescendo of craving
Sullen and distorted
Run away - run away as fast as you can
From anything that needs discipline
The year of purification
The year of
The year of purification
The year of purification
What have I said?
What have I said again?
I regret everything
Moral little shit-kickers
Liberal asinine pricks
Run away - run away as fast as you can
From anything that needs discipline
The year of purification
The year of
The year of purification
. . .
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(Lyrics: Nick Jones; Music: James Dean Bradfield/Sean Moore)
I got the Wattsville blues
I got nothing to lose now baby
I got the Wattsville blues
I got nothing to lose now baby
Time is going on
Time is leaving me
I got the Wattsville blues
I got the Wattsville blues now baby
But I still love the smile on your face
But I still love the sense of this place
I'm so happy I know I can never leave
Even though my, my brain it fucking bleeds
I got the Wattsville blues
I got nothing to lose now baby
I got the Wattsville blues
I got nothing to lose
Time is going on
And time is killing me
I got the Wattsville blues
I got the Wattsville blues now baby
But I still love the smile on your face
But I still love the everything about this place
I'm so happy I know I can never leave
There's a part of me that will never leave
But I still love
But I still love
But I still love the smile on your face
But I still love the everything about this place
I'm so happy I know I can never leave
Even though my, my brain it fucking bleeds
I got the Wattsville blues
I got nothing to lose now baby
I got the Wattsville blues now baby
Yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah
Wattsville blues
Wattsville blues
Don't want no friends
Don't want no friends
Don't want no
Don't want no
Don't want no friends
Don't want useless fuckers knocking at my door
Poxy fucking assholes following me
Don't you understand that I fucking despise
Every single living organism?
I'm dead
. . .
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(Lyrics: Nick Jones; Music: James Dean Bradfield/Sean Moore)
Miss Europa disco dancer
Feel the drug of your persona
Miss Europa disco dancer
I'm in heaven when I see ya
Miss Europa disco dancer
Favourite son and favourite daughter
Miss Europa disco dancer
Suck - suck - suck up all of your power
So serene, the world turns blue
Heads are spinning - it feels so good
It's poetry, sheer poetry
The way you destroy your beauty
Miss Europa disco dancer
Brutaly becomes a no hoper
Miss Europa disco dancer
Had your luck and had your chances
Miss Europa disco dancer
I never reached the supernova
Miss Europa disco dancer
Wake up drunk and then fall over
So messed up, the world turns grey
All washed up with debts to pay
It's agony, sheer agony
The way your life just fades away
So serene, the world turns blue
Heads are spinning - it feels so good
It's poetry, sheer poetry
The way you destroy your beauty
So messed up, the world turns grey
All washed up with debts to pay
It's agony, sheer agony
The way your life just fades away
Braindead motherfuckers
Braindead motherfuckers
Braindead motherfuckers
Braindead motherfuckers
Braindead motherfuckers
Braindead motherfuckers
Braindead motherfuckers
Braindead motherfuckers
Braindead motherfuckers
Braindead motherfuckers
Braindead motherfuckers
Braindead motherfuckers
Braindead motherfuckers
Braindead motherfuckers
Braindead motherfuckers
Braindead motherfuckers
Braindead motherfuckers
Braindead motherfuckers
Braindead motherfuckers
Braindead motherfuckers
Braindead motherfuckers
Braindead motherfuckers
Braindead motherfuckers
Braindead motherfuckers
. . .
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(Lyrics: Nick Jones; Music: James Dean Bradfield/Sean Moore)
Dead martyrs
All stigmartys
Dead heroes
For fear of zeroes
Dead martyrs
Always take it further
Dead heroes
Know no fear
Living for some happiness
Find nothing that satisfies
Had a beginning but it got no end
Got no future
Just dead stars for dead eyes
Got no future
Just dead stars for dead eyes
Got no future
Dead stars are always the blackest
Dead heroes the living empty
Dead martyrs hang on forever
Dead martyrs always take it further
Living for some happiness
Find nothing that satisfies
Had a beginning but it got no end
Got no future
Just dead stars for dead eyes
Got no future
Just dead stars for dead eyes
Got no future
Got no future
Just dead stars for dead eyes
Got no future
Just dead stars for dead eyes
Got no future
. . .
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(Lyrics: Nick Jones; Music: James Dean Bradfield/Sean Moore)
The nothing in me
The apostle in me
No interpretation
For the heart of me
I can't see right from my wrong
I've loved so much that I can't go on
It's not my life anymore
Don't speak the truth anymore
All of the hope and the dreams
Ripped right open at the seams
I can't see right from my wrong
I've loved so much that I can't go on
Seems like I've lost myself
To everybody and everything else
I've lied again today
People laugh at it all the time
I can't see right from my wrong
I've loved so much that I can't go on
It's not my life anymore
Don't speak the truth anymore
All of the hope and the dreams
Ripped right open at the seams
I can't see right from my wrong
I've loved so much that I can't go on
The nothing in me
The nothing in me
The apostle in me
No interpretation
For the heart in me
The nothing in me
The apostle in me
The nothing in me
The apostle in me
. . .
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(Lyrics: Nick Jones; Music: James Dean Bradfield/Sean Moore)
I'm small and I'm tired
I'm blurred to bits and wired
I'm nothing in this universe
Nothing but pieces of dust
Appearing in more repeats
The mirror man has seen defeat
Hide away, be old and grey
Alfred J. Prufrock would be proud of me
Keep it together - hold it together
Keep it together - together
Little someone in my own little Guernica
Sleep so heavy that it's out of the question
Little someone in my own little Guernica
Wake up and pour myself another ice-breaker
Going now so happy and so loose
Making bigger holes in my stomach
Losing losing split down the middle
With no end and no beginning
I'm small and I'm tired
I'm blurred to bits and wired
I'm nothing in this universe
Nothing but pieces of dust
Keep it together - hold it together
Keep it together - hold it together
Little someone in my own little Guernica
Sleep so heavy that it's out of the question
Little someone in my own little Guernica
Wake up and pour myself another ice-breaker
Keep it together - hold it together
Keep it together - hold it together
Little someone in my own little Guernica
Sleep so heavy that it's out of the question
Little someone in my own little Guernica
Wake up and pour myself another ice-breaker
Ice-breaker
Ice-breaker
Ice-breaker
. . .
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(Lyrics: Nick Jones; Music: James Dean Bradfield/Sean Moore)
My bedroom wall recalls what's in my head
A collage constructed and constantly fed
Goya mixes Picasso but it's hardly Spain
Look through the window, pissing down with rain
Lovely labradors outnumber musicians
Bonnie and Clyde have made their good intentions
Pity poor Payne Stewart in a death bubble
But what a swing and so much bottle
So I convalesce and I ease the stress
Cos DNA means does not accept
So I convalesce and I ease the stress
Cos DNA means does not accept
Kleenex kitchen towels and teletext TV
My favourite inventions of the twentieth century
Haile Gebrselassie looks so sweet and young
Eyes quickly shift to Jack Kevorkian
Uneven and tidal all with exit policies
Followed by anti-ballistic migraines
And Brian Warner has a tasty little ass
Scared of cash machines and the Mardi Gras
So I convalesce and I ease the stress
Cos DNA means does not accept
So I convalesce and I ease the stress
Cos DNA means does not accept
Alberto Juanterino unique in his field
These are the things that, that make you feel
Klaus Kinski with love off Werner Herzog
Scream until the war is over
Scream until the war is over
Srebrenica cousin of Treblinka
Scream until the war is over
War is over
And Dante's Inferno slides into dismorphia
So scream until the war is over
So I convalesce and I ease the stress
Cos DNA means does not accept
So I rehabilitate and get my body straight
Cos nothing fits like it used to fit
. . .
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(Lyrics: Nick Jones; Music: James Dean Bradfield/Sean Moore)
You've been this way since school
Dysfunctional, translucent
Royalty on your wall
So desperately mundane
They're inbred baby just like you
But you'd love the chance to eat their food
Even though it has been chewed
Royal correspondent
Sad and lonely
Royal correspondent
Kills her daily
Dream of the Daily Mail
It is the Holy Grail
And then the BBC
Your life would be complete
Build a fountain, wash away the poor
Just as long as your motives are pure
Hold on tight or you just might lose her
Royal correspondent
Wears their Sunday best
Royal correspondent
Smarter than the rest
Royal correspondent
Smarter than the rest
Royal correspondent
Smarter than the rest
Royal correspondent
Smarter than the rest
Royal correspondent
Smarter than the rest
Smarter than the rest
. . .
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(Lyrics: Nick Jones; Music: James Dean Bradfield/Sean Moore)
We use ourselves like politicians
For all the money and indecision - indecision
Indecision
Feels like there's no escape
Except through my hate
Second hand germ warfare
Denied oxygen everywhere
Like a stunned fox - with memory loss
A sad numb creature - I worship the painkiller
It is my epicentre
It is my epicentre
Non-existent energy adrenalin my God
Still clinging to the umbilical chord - umbilical chord
I'm breaking and I'm shaking - so delete the feeling
Beneath the real thing - delete the feeling - delete the feeling
Like a stunned fox - with memory loss
A sad numb creature - I worship the painkiller
It is my epicentre
It is my epicentre
I'm sleeping myself away
Into the blurred life of yesterday
I'm tip-tip-a-tapping tip-tip-a-tapping
My nerves are destroyed
Feels like there's no escape
Except through my hate
Second hand germ warfare
Denied oxygen everywhere
Like a stunned fox - with memory loss
A sad numb creature - I worship the painkiller
This is my epicentre
This is my epicentre
You don't drink - you don't get high
So make sure you take your medicine boy
You don't drink - you don't get high
So make sure you take your medicine boy
This is my epicentre
. . .
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(Lyrics: Nick Jones; Music: James Dean Bradfield/Sean Moore)
Blockades won't win you more votes
A Cuban adjustment act
Offer the world a dream
Dress it up - it's blackmail
Internal matter they say
For two million dollars a day
Maybe a future in film
But Cuban boxers still win
Kidnapped - to the promised land
The Bay Of Pigs
Or baby Elian
Operation - Peter Pan
America
The Devil's playground
Baby Elian
Baby Elian
Across the unfair divide
Where black will never meet white
So read my token lips
As if they never exist
You cannot buy a nation
Not even Miami mob
We follow a shining path
That you will never destroy
Kidnapped - to the promised land
The Bay Of Pigs
Or baby Elian
Operation - Peter Pan
America
The Devil's playground
You don't just sit in a rocking chair
When you've built a revolution
You don't just sit in a rocking chair
When you've built a revolution
Baby Elian
. . .
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(Lyrics: Nick Jones; Music: James Dean Bradfield/Sean Moore)
Liberty, sweet liberty
Charitable respectability
Then pacifism killed us all
For all the tourists on the Berlin wall
So we protest about human rights
Worship obesity as our birthright
But freedom of speech won't feed my children
Just brings heart disease and bootleg clothing
Just brings heart disease and bootleg clothing
We love to kiss the Dalai Lama's ass
Because he is such a holy man
Free to eat and buy anything
Free to fuck from Paris to Beijing
Little boys with dangerous toys
All bow down to the Beastie Boys
But freedom of speech won't feed my children
Just brings heart disease and bootleg clothing
Just brings heart disease and bootleg clothing
Royalty - hereditery - unelected and becalmed
Just like Stalin, just like Stalin
Human and useless
Bomb the Chinese Embassy
The west is free, oh the west is free
Laugh at the hammer and sickle
It is antique, oh it is antique
And see the love in Richard Gere's eyes
JS Pemberton saved our lives
But freedom of speech won't feed my children
Just brings heart disease and bootleg clothing
Just brings heart disease and bootleg clothing
Just brings heart disease and bootleg clothing
Just brings heart disease and bootleg clothing
. . .
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(Malcom Eden/Gary Baker/Timothy Gane/John Williamson)
There's something wrong somewhere here
So through unclean streets I made my way
With holes in my shoes and my children asleep at my feet
I paid my way
In every town on the way
The people looked grey the buildings looked healthy
But one day I met a man
With money to spare
He said he would tell me how it is
The State he began
Has been propping up people to long
For far to long
We all got lazy and couldn't be bothered
To make our way through the world
But we are all bourgeois now
Once there was class war
But not any longer
Because baby we are all bourgeois now
So go out and make your way in the world
We're free to choose
We're all free to choose
We're all free to choose
We're free to choose
In Booming Britain we all work together
To raise ourselves in the world
Each of us knows someone
Who has done well for themselves
So well for themselves
"Thank you," I said as I left
I'll be on my way, I see how it is
We are all bourgeois now
And somehow I'll raise myself through the world
I'm free to choose
We're all free to choose
We're all free to choose
I'm free to choose
We're all bourgeois now
We're all bourgeois now
We're bourgeois now
. . .
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