Fair enough, KRG, except the reason I like the lyrics Iāve posted is because they tell a story, so to post fragments would negate their impact, imo.
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That was the idea 
If you donāt waana fuck me baby
baby fuck off
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Well done, ending another one of my threads 
Moons and Junes and ferris wheels, the dizzy dancing way that you feel
as every fairy tale comes real; Iāve looked at love that way.
But now itās just another show. You leave 'em laughing when you go
and if you care, donāt let them know, donāt give yourself away.
ā¦a trick I never manged to pull off. 
When the see-saw snaps and splinters your hand
Donāt come crying to me
Iāll only see your good side
And believe itās a miracle, a miracle
I slap the water and watch the fish dance
To the ripples of us
Weāre just dull blue duds
Blinking eyes encased in rust
Ivory Madonna dying in the dust,
Waiting for the manna coming from the west.
Barren is her bosom, empty as her eyes,
Death a certain harvest scattered from the skies.
Skin and bones is creeping, doesnāt know heās dead.
Ancient eyes are peeping, from his infant head.
Politicianās argue sharpening their knives.
Drawing up their bargains, trading baby lives.
Ivory madonna dying in the dust,
Waiting for the manna coming from the west.
Hear the bells are ringing, Christmas on itās way.
Hear the angels singing, what is that they say?
Eat and drink rejoicing, joy is here to stay.
Jesus son of Mary is born again today.
Ivory Madonna dying in the dust,
Waiting for the manna coming from the west.
Ivory Madonna dying in the dust,
Waiting for the manna coming from the west.
So as not to irritate KRG, hereās one that doesnāt include the whole song
Last thing I remember I was running for the door
I had to find the passage back to the place I was before
āRelax,ā said the night man, āWe are programmed to receive
You can check out any time you like but you can never leaveā
Bit like this place in some ways ā¦
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16 years old when I went to the war
To fight for a land fit for heroes
God on my side and a gun in my hand
Chasing my days down to zero
And I marched and I fought and I bled and I died
And I never did get any older
But I knew at the time that a year in the line
Was a long enough life for a soldier
We all volunteered and we wrote down our names
And we added two years to our ages
Eager for life and ahead of the game
Ready for historyās pages
And we brawled and we fought and we whored till we stood
Ten thousand shoulder to shoulder
A thirst for the hun, we were food for the gun
And thatās what you are when youāre soldiers
I heard my friend cry and he sank to his knees
Coughing blood as he screamed for his mother
And I fell by his side and thatās how we died
Clinging like kids to each other
And I lay in the mud and the guts and the blood
And I wept as his body grew colder
And I called for my mother and she never came
Though it wasnāt my fault and I wasnāt to blame
The day not half over and ten thousand slain
And now thereās nobody remembers our names
And thatās how it is for a soldier
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On the National Express thereās a jolly hostess
Selling crisps and tea
Sheāll provide you with drink and theatrical winks
For a sky high fee
Mini skirts were in style when she danced down the aisle
Back in '63
But its hard to get by when your arse is the size
Of a small country
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I saw two shooting stars last night
I wished on them but they were only satellites
Is it wrong to wish on space hardware
I wish, I wish, I wish youād care
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Jonny Marr admitted he could never recreate that guitar sound. His vocals are awful .
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Well you can lead a horse to water, but youāre never gonna make him drink.
And you can lead a man to slaughter, but youāre never gonna make him think.
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Blank frank has a memory thatās as cold as an iceberg
The only time he speaks is in incomprehensible proverbs
Blank frank is the siren, heās the air-raid, heās the crater
Heās on the menu, on the table, heās the knife and heās the waiter
I donāt know what you heard about me
But a bitch canāt get a dollar out of me
No Cadillac, no perms, you canāt see
That Iām a motherfucking P-I-M-P
I donāt know what you heard about me
But a bitch canāt get a dollar out of me
No Cadillac, no perms, you canāt see
That Iām a motherfucking P-I-M-P
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I have seen no evidence to suggest that this is the case.
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Wandering lonely through the snow streets of New York
I stumbled on a thrift store that sold postcards by the yard
I bought a mile and shipped them home so I could read
Ten thousand ten-word tragedies, the lives these strangers lead
To remind myself the things I need