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The Divine Comedy




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The Divine Comedy Album



08/31/1998
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Generation sex respects the rights of girls
Who want to take their clothes off
As long as we can all watch that's OK
And generation sex elects the type of guys
You wouldn't leave your kids with
And shouts "off with their heads" if they get laid
Lovers watch their backs as hacks in macs
Take snaps through telephoto lenses
Chase Mercedes Benz' through the night
A mourning nation weeps and wails
But keeps the sales of evil tabloids healthy
The poor protect the wealthy in this world
Generation sex injects the sperm of worms
Into the eggs of field mice
So you can look real nice for the boys
And generation sex is me and you
And we should really all know better
It doesn't really matter what you say


. . .



When you hang by a thread
Strange things go through your head
What was in that woodshed?
Will death be gentle?
"Better to live one day like a lion
Than a thousand sheepishly",
Say dead oriental...
I'm a thrillseeker honeyiўÂЂÂ”I can't help it
I would kill for that feeling now I've felt it
I'm a thrillseeker
If you live by the sword
You will reap your reward
Death by faulty rip-cord or loose caribiner
But it's my absolute right
To kill myself if I like
And now it looks like I might've finally succeeded
And I don't care
When they finally come
I'll be stuck there like gum
Frying under the suniўÂЂÂ”eggs over easy
But it's my triumph of will
Just to stay alive 'til
They've spent several million trying to save me
Albeit vainly
I don't want your money
I'm a thrillseeker honeyiўÂЂÂ”I can't help it
I'd kill for that feeling now I've felt it
It's the cruellest of hands but I've been dealt it
I can see it, I can feel it, I hear it
Here it comes.....


. . .



Freezing Monday morning
She is waiting for her train to come
I brush past her, smell her perfume
Watch her hair move as she turns to go
She doesn't know I exist
I'm gonna keep it like this
I'm not gonna take any risks this time

She's not like the others
With their papers and their headphones on
She reads novels by French authors with loose morals
She can do no wrong
I wouldn't say I'm obsessed
I don't wanna see her undressed
We can be prince and princess in my dream
And we're dancing
Through the evening
'Til the morning


. . .



I would like to live in Sweden
When my work is done
Where the snow lies crisp and even
'Neath the midnight sun
Safe and clean and green and modern
Bright and breezy - free and easy
Sweden - Sweden - Sweden - In Sweden
I am gonna live in Sweden
Please don't ask me why
For if I were to give a reason
It would be a lie
Tall and strong and blonde and blue-eyed
Pure and healthy, very wealthy
I'll grow wings and fly to Sweden
When my time is come
Then at last my eyes shall see them
Heroes every one
Ingmar Bergman
Henrik Ibsen
Karin Larrson
Nina Persson


. . .



Eric The Gardener
Julius Ci¦sar came, saw, conquered, went away
'Cause it rained here all the time
Too many sniffs and colds
Got up his Roman nose
So he left it all behind for Eric The Gardener to find
Eric The Gardener will find Eric The Gardener

Julius Ci¦sar knew that when his life was through
Something of him would stay behind
Not in a Roman tomb or in an Italian womb
But buried deep in English slime
For Eric The Gardener to find
Eric The Gardener will find Eric The Gardener

Julius Ci¦sar sleeps soundly beneath your feet
With the rest of human-kind
Dig deep and dig some more
Dig to the planet's core
Dig 'til you've gone out of your mind
But all you will ever really find is Eric The Gardener
All you can ever hope to find is Eric The Gardener


. . .


Take the National Express when your life's in a mess, it will make you smile..
All human life is here, from the feeble old dear to the screaming child..
From the student who knows, that to have one of those, would be suicide,
To the family man, manhandling the pram with paternal pride

And everybody sings.. Yeah.. uh huh... alright...
we're going where the air, is free...

On the National Express there's a jolly hostess, selling crisps and tea
She'll provide you with drinks and theatrical winks, for a sky high fee..
Mini skirts were in style when she danced down the aisle, back in 63
But it's hard to get by, when your arse is the size of a small country..

And everybody sings.. Yeah.. uh huh.. alright..
we're going where the air, is free...

Tomorrow belongs to me.. When you're sad and feeling blue, with nothing better to do,
just don't sit there feeling stressed, take a trip on the NATIONAL EXPRESS..
On the National Express..
Let's go!..

. . .



Build your coffin of balsa wood
Spend all that you earn
When you go you are gone for good
Never to return
Always to thine own self be true
Not to fools like me
Who'll change their minds
For the sake of rhyming schemes
Au revoir joi, bonjour tristesse
Only pain and sorrow
So don't rely on the stars above
Screw the universe
You'd better try to live your life on earth
So au revoir joi, bonjour tristesse
Good times come and they go
This life owes nobody happiness
Only pain and sorrow
So don't rely on the stars above
Screw the universe
You'd better try to live your life on earth
I'm gonna try to live my life on earth


. . .


A butterfly flies through the forest rain
And turns the wind into a hurricane, yeah
I know that it will happen
'Cause I believe in the certainty of chance
The certainty of chance
A schoolboy yawns, sits back, and hits return
While 'round the world, computers crash and burn, yeah
I know that it will happen
'Cause I believe in the certainty of chance
The certainty of chance
The certainty of chance
And I believe,
I can see it all so clearly now
You must go and I must set you free
'Cause only that will bring you back to me, yeah, yeah, yeah
Oh I know that it will happen
I'm sure that it must happen
Oh I know it's gonna happen
Because I believe in the certainty of chance
The certainty of chance
The certainty of chance

(Spoken)
Sometimes at night the darkness and silence weighs on me. Peace
frightens me. Perhaps I fear it most of all. I feel it's only a facade,
hiding the face of hell. I think of what's in store for my children
tomorrow; "The world will be wonderful", they say; but from whose
viewpoint? We need to live in a state of suspended animation, like a
work of art; in a state of enchantment... detached. Detached.

. . .



Here comes the flood
Rivers of mud, baby
Here comes the quake
Evacuate while you still can
Here comes the fire
Our funeral pyre, baby
Here comes the flood
Here comes the blood bath

Here comes the fly
Fifty foot high, baby
Here comes the war
More blood and gore
Than you can stand
Here comes the race
From outer space, baby
It's all over
We're all gonna die

If the good Lord intended me to live in L.A., He'd have given me a machine gun. Still, here I am, just another little worried citizen of this modern-day Pompeii waiting for the melt-down, the show-down, the great American close-down. When that fault-line that runs right through society's fabric finally snaps and the whole damn thing starts unravelling. Why watch the sports channel, when you can watch CNN? Ladies and Gentlemen, the greatest race in history, the race to end all races, in fact the race to end history. In lane oneiўÂЂÂ”the San Andreas Fault. In lane twoiўÂЂÂ”Global Recession. In threeiўÂЂÂ”El Nino. In fouriўÂЂÂ”Chemical War. Lane fiveiўÂЂÂ”Inter-Racial Conflict. Lane sixiўÂЂÂ”Auto Immune Deficiency Syndrome. On your marks. Get Set. Wait for it ..... Go!

Here comes the flood
Rivers of blood, baby
Here comes the bomb
It won' t be long
'Til we're all gone
Here comes the sun
Run baby run, baby
If you believe all that you read
You'll know the end is nigh
We're all gonna die!


. . .



I was born in Londonderry
I was born in Derry City too
Oh what a special child
To see such things and still to smile
I know that there was something wrong
But I kept my head down and carried on

I grew up in Enniskillen
I grew up in Inis Ceathlain too
Oh what a clever boy
To watch your hometown be destroyed
I know that I could not stay long
So I kept my head down and carried on

Who cares where national borders lie
Who cares whose laws you're governed by
Who cares what name you call a town
Who'll care when you're six feet beneath the ground

From the corner of my eye
A hint of blue in the black sky
A ray of hope, a beam of light
An end to thirty years of night
The church-bells ring, the children sing
What is this strange and beautiful thing
It's the sunrise
Can you see the sunrise?
I can see the sunrise


. . .


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