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Shivaree




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Shivaree Album


Breach [EP] (2004)
2004
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657 Bed B
. . .



Well, I rang up Pantucci
Spoke to Lu-chi
I gave them all
They needed to know

And if affairs are proceeding
As we're expecting soon enough
The weak spots will show

I assume you understand that we have options on your time
And will ditch you in the harbour if we must

But if it all works out nicely
You'll get the bonus you deserve
From doctors we trust.

The Fat Lady of Limbourg
Looked at the samples that we sent
And furrowed her brow

You would never believe that
She'd tasted royalty and fame
If you saw her now

But her sense of taste is such that she'll distinguish with her tongue
The subtleties a spectrograph would miss

And then announce her decision
While demanding her reward
The jellyfish kiss

Now we checked out this duck quack
Who laid a big egg, oh so black
It shone just like gold

And then the kids from the city
Finding it pretty, took it home
And there it was sold

It was changing hands for weeks 'till someone left it by their fire
It melted to a puddle on the floor

For it was only a candle
A Roman scandal oh oh oh
Now it's a pool

That's what we're paid for
That's what we're paid for
That's what we're paid for here

That's what we're paid for
That's what we're paid for

. . .



Giddy-up old boy it's time to go
Vous les vous savoir the love below
Brother, I've got more than you can take
But more than I can do to stay awake

I close my eyes
So I
Can dream of ways to keep you occupied
So I
Can lock you up we'll keep it classified
Alright
You're mine tonight, son
When I close my eyes

I can make you sorry when I want
Find some other house for you to haunt
Carry out your sentence in my head
All I have to do is go to bed

I close my eyes
So I
Can dream of ways to keep you occupied
So I
Can lock you up we'll keep it classified
So right
You're mine tonight son, when I close my eyes

Hide and seek, yellow ducky
Feeling weak or feeling lucky son

Who's got milk, the baby's crying
Shut 'em up, get 'em flying
Little kiddies bought and sold
And papa's got a brand new bag of gold

Tonight
I'll dream of ways to keep you occupied
So I can lock you up we'll call it classified
So right

. . .


(John Cale Cover / Live 2002)

Standing waiting for a man to show
Wide eyed one eye fixed on the door
This waiting's killing me
It's wearing me down

Day in day out
My feet are burning holes in the ground

Darkness warmer than a bedroom floor
Want someone to hold me close forever more
I'm a sleeping dog
But you can't tell

When I'm on the prowl
Run like hell

You know it makes sense
Don't think about it
Life and death are just things that you do when you're bored

Say fear's a man's best friend
Say fear's a man's best friend
Say fear's a man's best friend
When you add it up it brings you down
You add it up it brings you down

Home is living like a man on the run
Trails leading nowhere, where to my son
We're already dead
Not yet in the ground

Take my helping hand
I'll show you around

You know it makes sense
Don't think about it
Life and death are just things that you do when you're bored

Say fear's a man's best friend
Say fear's a man's best friend
Say fear's a man's best friend
When you add it up it brings you down

. . .


(The Waterboys cover)

We're sailing on a strange boat
Heading for a strange shore
We're sailing on a strange boat
Heading for a strange shore
Carrying the strangest cargo
That was ever hauled aboard

We're sailing on a strange sea
Blown by a strange wind
We're sailing on a strange sea
Blown by a strange wind
Carrying the strangest crew, crew
That ever sinned

We're riding in a strange car
We're followin' a strange star
We're climbing on the strangest ladder
That was ever there to climb

We're living in a strange time
Working for a strange goal
We're living in a strange time
Working for a strange goal
We're turning flesh and body
Into soul

We're riding in a strange car
We're followin' a strange star
We're climbing on the strangest ladder
That was ever there to climb

We're living in a strange time
Working for a strange goal
We're living in a strange time
Working for a strange goal
We're turning flesh and body

. . .

657 Bed B

[No lyrics]

. . .


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