The Beautiful South

Her er teksterne til The Beautiful South's cd "Blue Is The Colour" samt enkelte fra cd'en "Quench"

Alone
Artificial Flowers
Blackbird On A Wire
Don't Marry Her
Foundations
Have Fun
Liar's Bar
Little Blue
Mirror
One God
Rotterdam (Or Anywhere)
The Sound of North America
Perfect 10

	Alone Like the contents of your handbag You don't know why it's there People ask you where you're heading You just answer "anywhere" We don't mean to be this vague It just happens that we are No-one asked us to elaborate We just shrug our shoulders and be And like the stories that just happened No-one thought of, no-one planned We could have ruled, we could have conquered Then we could have been a man We could be ex-husband We could be ex-wife But no-one looks at the menu in a greasy spoon life Alone, alone Half an hour is seven hours One day is several months Alone, alone A month is a calendar A year can be a decade spent Alone He knows "hello" in eighteen languages "I love you" in only one By the time he's got his phrase-book The chance is usually gone And we feel ourselves quite prepared But quite prepared for what We always took the lead Before we actually knew the plot And you can tell where we've been shopping By the bags beneath our eyes Make-up shoulders burden But the smile never lies We could be ex-husband We could be ex-wife But no-one looks at the menu in a greasy spoon life Alone, alone Half an hour is seven hours One day is several months Alone, alone A month is a calendar A year can be a decade spent Alone So empty at the airport You don't set off the doors We used to feel like chorus girl And now we feel like whores Hearts built like reservoirs Words built like dams Thoughts built like juggernauts Our actions built like prams And when the wind blows into our face We should be warmer and not colder Well, what price the charges On this cargo that we shoulder We could be ex-husband We could be ex-wife But no-one looks at the menu in a greasy spoon life Alone, alone Half an hour is seven hours One day is several months Alone, alone A month is a calendar A year can be a decade spent Alone And we only smoke when bored So we do two packs a day And we've lost the difference
	Artificial Flowers Alone in the world was poor little Anne As sweet a young child as you'd find Her parents had gone to their final reward Leaving their baby behind Did you hear this poor little child was only nine years of age When mother and dad went away Still she bravely worked at the one thing she knew To earn a few pennies a day She made artificial flowers, artificial flowers Flowers for ladies of fashion to wear She made artificial flowers, artificial flowers Fashioned from Annie's despair With papers and shears, with wire and wax She made up each tulip and mum As snow flakes drifted in to her tenement room Her baby little fingers grew numb From artificial flowers, those artificial flowers Flowers for ladies of high fashion to wear She made artificial flowers, artificial flowers Made from Annie's despair And they found little Annie all covered with ice Still clutching her poor frozen shears Amidst all the blossoms, she had fashioned by hand And watered with all her young tears There must be a Heaven where little Annie can play In heavenly gardens and bowers And instead of halo, she'll wear round her head A garland of genuine flowers No more artificial flowers, artificial flowers Flowers for ladies of society to wear Those artificial flowers, artificial flowers Fashioned from Annie's Fashioned from Annie's despair
	Blackbird On A Wire Eyes to take you dancing mouth to leave your wife Legs to run away with and you wonder why? Heart that makes you bypass every other girl Smile that keeps you grinning at the madness of this world But like the blackbird on the wire I will not take prey on you You wouldn't want me to For I am too soft for such a thing And like the blackbird on the wire I just watch you by The tears I knew I'd cry Fall unnoticed down below Front to make you happy back to make you weep Lips to keep you kissing whilst everyone's asleep Tears to break a backbone laughs to win a war And people come and ask me what I love you for But like the blackbird on the wire I will not take prey on you You wouldn't want me to For I am too soft for such a thing And like the blackbird on the wire I just watch you by The tears I knew I'd cry Fall unnoticed down below And with a tongue built from quicksilver and a character of steel They actually come and ask me How I feel But like the blackbird on the wire I will not take prey on you You wouldn't want me to For I am too soft for such a thing And like the blackbird on the wire I just watch you by The tears I knew I'd cry Fall unnoticed down below
	Don't Marry Her Think of you with pipe and slippers Think of her in Bed Laying there just watching telly Then think of me instead I'll never grow so old and flabby That could never be Don't marry her, fuck me And your love light shines like cardboard But your work shoes are glistening She's a Ph.D in 'I told you so' You've a knighthood in 'I'm not listening' She'll grab your sweaty bollocks Then slowly raise her knee Don't marry her, fuck me And the Sunday sun shines down on San Francisco bay And you realise you can't make it anyway You have to wash the car Take the kiddies to the park Don't marry her, fuck me Those lovely Sunday mornings With breakfast brought in bed Those blackbirds look like knitting needles Trying to peck your head Those birds will peck your soul out And throw away the key Don't marry her, fuck me And the kitchen's always tidy And the bathroom's always clean She's a diploma in 'just hiding things' You've a first in 'low esteem' When your socks smell of angels But your life smells of brie Don't marry her, fuck me And the Sunday sun shines down on San Francisco bay And you realise you can't make it anyway You have to wash the car Take the kiddies to the park Don't marry her, fuck me And the Sunday sun shines down on San Francisco bay And you realise you can't make it anyway You have to wash the car Take the kiddies to the park Don't marry her, fuck me
	Foundations Build your dream castle out of sand It's bound to get washed up anyway Dream your dreams out of last week They're bound to have come up yesterday If you want to give them flowers Make them paper ones you send Live your life a jigsaw It goes back in the box, in the end Build your dream heart from plasticine 'Cause you're putty in their hands Mould your ambition in concrete Cause you'll only land in quicksand Carve your dough from play-dough 'Cause they'll roll you into a ball Make your friends from Lego Cause Lego makes a wall 'Cause when you build big houses The paintings get stolen The devil says he's silver When you know that he is golden When papier mache heads make more sense than the sun Giving teacher apples could be fun or dumb Build your planes from Airfix 'Cause you'll only lose the war Write your love letters on rice paper At least you'll feed the poor Build your dream castle out of sand It's bound to get washed up anyway Dream your dreams out of last week They're bound to have come up yesterday
	Have Fun Have fun And if you can't have fun Have someone else's fun 'Cause someone sure had mine They came in, now they're having a whale of a time You should grow a beard A beard to tell a thousand stories never told before A beard to tell you tales, whilst the fireplace roars The closing of relationships, and the opening of doors The starting of hostilities and the ending of wars Take care And if you couldn't care Take someone else's care 'Cause someone took my care They were there, and then they were not there We should have a baby And then I wouldn't feel quite so sad Then I'd feel like Paul the Saint and not Jack the Lad A baby that'll make me feel so very glad I've had a life of booze, but that's all I've ever had 'Cause I'm the King of Misery The Prince of the torn apart And you're the lighthouse keeper To the owner of a ship-wrecked heart Take heart And if you can't take heart Take someone else's heart Someone took my heart They came in, now I'm torn apart We should grey together Not that pigeon-chested Trafalgar grey The grey that greets you on that first October day The grey of Russian front, whilst wolves bay And the skeleton of life, that love decays 'Cause you're the Queen of Sadness The Princess of the House of Pain And you're the final match To the holder of this flickering flame Have fun
	Liar's Bar Well sitting in a bar alone where no-one knows your name Is like laying in a graveyard wide awake You're scared that if you cough or yawn, you might wake up the dead So pretend to read a paper or just drink instead I'm a stand-up comedian, but I'd sit down if I could The world just seems to want folk like me to stand And the punch-lines seem to disappear like clouds across the sky And the laughter could be real or could be canned Rum by the kettle drum Whiskey by the jar At Liars' Bar Well living with a lying man could never really hurt But living with a drunk, well no-one deserves And you're looking for your husband, you're not sure he's still alive Don't bother with the cemetery, he'll be down at liar's dive I'm a travelling businessman, I just stopped in for one drink You'll find that I'm not like the other men Their noses are red, whilst mine is only pink And they didn't choose their drink, their drink chose them Rum by the kettle drum Whiskey by the jar At Liars' Bar And the grave-digger's smiling, at his reflection in his spade He's visiting the seediest, the shallowest of graves The vocal chords of elephants, and the characters of mice They're singing "whisky, whisky", so good they named it twice Well don't pass buildings with lights on, if I said that I did I'd have lied 'Cause what looks like a Chinese restaurant, may have Chinese New Year inside And son all my life I've been searching, the bars I've been in I forget The lights outside ever brighter, but a light on the inside not yet Rum by the kettle drum Whiskey by the jar At Liars' Bar And he's a world-wide traveller, he's not like me or you But he comes in mighty regular, for one who's passing through That one came in his work clothes, he's missed his last bus home He's missed a hell of a lot of buses, for a man who wants to roam If I look rough I am rough If I look sad I am If I look broke am I broke Just a broke down piece of man I've turned over enough leaves, to fill an autumn and if I had one final wish I'd be your slave for a decade, if you could take me away from this If you took me away from this, I'd be different you'd see 'Cause I didn't choose the drink, a drink just chose me Rum by the kettle drum Whiskey by the jar At Liars' Bar Well I'm smoking like a chimney And I'm drinking like a fish At Liars' Bar
	Little Blue You can't write a novel from a briefcase You can write a poem from a trench You can dream a dream from A to B But you can't catch a bus from a bench You don't back a horse called Striding Snail You don't name your boat Titanic II So why when I see your happy smiling face Do I always end up singing Little Blue Little Blue, how do you do Your smile looks like heaven but your eyes hold a storm about to brew Little Blue How can a flower so pretty Be so laden down with dew Little Blue How can a flower so beautiful Be so laden down with dew Little Blue You can't build a brewery on a cemetery You can build a pub on a church And people fall quicker than buildings do You have to decide what comes first You don't call a plane the Flying Roman 'Cause the Romans always walked and never flew So why when I see your happy smiling face Do I always end up singing Little Blue Little Blue, how do you do Your smile looks like heaven But your eyes hold a storm about to brew Little Blue How can a flower so pretty Be so laden down with dew Little Blue Well Bukowski wrote a story from a barstool And Keats from the top of a hill So I'm going to save my special song for you From a grave where it's quiet and it's chill 'Cause there's a queue of clouds assembled On the horizon of your smile When most think that you're holding back I know you're holding bile Little Blue, how do you do Your smile looks like heaven But your eyes hold a storm about to brew Little Blue How can a flower so pretty be so laden down with dew Little Blue How can a flower so beautiful be so laden down with dew Little Blue
	Mirror They could be fat or could be thin They could be black, they could be white Tell me who's knocking at the knocking shop door tonight Not much a girl can do but open or close Those things are above doors Not much legs can do but open or close Those things are above us whores So imagine a mirror Bigger than the room it was placed in Imagine my wish for a future that cannot hold my wish Imagine the want to hold a rod that cannot hold the fish Imagine a rod that cannot hold the fish They could be lonely or could be bust They could be tack, they could be real They do have feelings, but just right now I feel A feminine receptacle, that's just what I am Those things are above us whores Just the best target practice, for a misguided man Those things are above us whores So imagine a mirror Bigger than the room it was placed in Imagine my wish for a future that cannot hold my wish Imagine the want to hold a rod that cannot hold the fish Imagine a rod that cannot hold the fish
	One God Like the toupee on a fading fame The final whistle in a losing game Thick lipstick on a five year old girl It makes you think it's a plastic world A plastic world and we're all plastic too Just a couple of different faces in a dead man's queue The world is turning Disney and there's nothing you can do You're trying to walk like giants, but you're wearing Pluto's shoes And the answers fall easier from the barrel of a gun Than it does from the lips of the beautiful and the dumb The world won't end in darkness, it'll end in family fun With Coca Cola clouds behind a Big Mac sun A howling scream in a church asleep Rusty bicycle in an ocean deep Like an ear-ring on the newly born Strong perfume on a winter's morn The world is perfumed and we're perfumed as well Petals from a flower that blossomed in hell And you can't breathe the air through the thickness of the smell And you can't see the hair through the grease of the gel And the answers fall easier from the barrel of a gun Than it does from the lips of the beautiful and the dumb The world won't end in darkness, it'll end in family fun With Coca Cola clouds behind a Big Mac sun You say there's only one God, you could do with two or three Your Jesus Christ is hired out, like the slag of Galilee Well if Peter is a prostitute, then what does that make me There's only one God There should be two or three One God There should be two or three One God There should be two or three Two or three
	Rotterdam (Or AnyWhere) And the woman tug their hair Like they're trying to prove it won't fall out And all the men are gargoyles Dipped long in Irish stout The whole place is pickled The people are pickles for sure And no-one knows if they've done more here Than they ever would do in a jar This could be Rotterdam or anywhere Liverpool or Rome 'Cause Rotterdam is anywhere Anywhere alone Anywhere alone And everyone is blonde And everyone is beautiful and when blonde and beautiful are multiple they become so dull and dutiful And when faced with dull and dutiful They fire red warning flares Battle-Khaki personality With red underwear This could be Rotterdam or anywhere Liverpool or Rome 'Cause Rotterdam is anywhere Anywhere alone Anywhere alone The whole place is pickled The people are pickles for sure And no-one knows if they've done more here Than they ever would do in a jar This could be Rotterdam or anywhere Liverpool or Rome 'Cause Rotterdam is anywhere Anywhere alone This could be Rotterdam or anywhere Liverpool or Rome 'Cause Rotterdam is anywhere Anywhere alone
	The Sound Of North America Ginger Elvis Presley looked a fraction sad Roaming the whole town from bin to bin Well living on the streets wasn't all that bad Where no-one seemed to know that he was King The sound of New York City isn't police sirens wailing It's the sound of Wall Street tills whilst everyone is failing Sometimes you feel expensive sometimes you feels so cheap You can roam the streets a King whilst everyone's asleep You can mime to any record with a hairbrush or a spoon But God help the singer out of tune A crippled Mohammad Ali looked at bad luck in the mirror Bad luck looked back at him and sighed He looked a good foot smaller and a couple of stone thinner And if anyone came toward him he would hide The sound of North America isn't Christians quietly praying It's the sound of shuffling feet that don't know where they're going Sometimes you feel expensive sometimes you feels so cheap You can roam the streets a King whilst everyone's asleep You can fight with anybody with a glimmer of a chance But God help the boxer with no hands A homeless Greta Garbo moves across the street The moonlight shining clearly through her skirt A real life living legend that no-one wants to meet And that's when being Garbo really hurt The lyrics of "New York" may have Frank Sinatra singing But the rhythm and the melody were dead black men swinging Sometimes you feel expensive sometimes you feels so cheap You can roam the streets a Queen whilst everyone's asleep You can act with anybody from the cradle to the crypt But God help the actress who doesn't know the script
	Perfect 10 (Quench) She's a Perfect 10 But she wears a 12 Baby, keep a little 2 for me She could be sweet 16 Bustin' out of the seams It's still love in first degree When he's at my gate With a big fat 8 You wanna see the smile on my face And even at my door With a poor poor 4 There ain't no man can replace 'Cause we love our love In different sizes I love her body Especially the lies Time takes it's toll But not on the eyes Promise me this Take me tonight If he's extra large (That's Me) Well I'm in charge I can work this thing on top If he's XXL Well what the hell Every penny don't fit the slot All the anorexic chicks The model 6 They don't hold no weight with me Well 8 or 9 Well that's just fine But I like to hold something I can see 'Cause we love our love In different sizes I love her body Especially the lies Time takes it's toll But not on the eyes Promise me this Take me tonight I bought a watch To time your beauty But I've had to fit a second hand I've bought a calendar And every month Is taken up by loverman 'Cause we love our love In different sizes I love her body Especially the lies Time takes it's toll But not on the eyes Promise me this Take me tonight 'Cause we love our love In different sizes I love her body Especially the lies Time takes it's toll But not on the eyes Promise me this Take me tonight