Fish - Fugazi Lyrics
Vodka intimate, an affair with isolation in a blackheath cellExtinguishing the fires in my private hellProvoking the heartache to renew the licenseOf a bleeding heart poet in a fragile capsulePropping up the crust of the glitter conscienceWrapped in the christening shawl of a hangoverBaptized in tears from the realDrowning in the liquid seize on the piccadilly line, rat-raceScuttling through the damp electric labyrinthCaress ophelias hand with breaststroke ambitionThe albatross courtship marrytime traditionSheathed with the walkman wear the halo of distortionAural contraceptive aborting pregnant conversationBut she turned the harpoon and it pierced my heartShe hung herself around my neckFrom the time-life guardians in their conscience bubblesSafe and dry in my sea of troublesNine to fives, with suitable tiesWhile Im cast adrift as their sideshow, peepshow, stereo heroBecalm, bestill, bewitch, drowning, drowning in the realThe thief of baghdad hides in islington nowPraying deportation for his sacred cowA legacy of romance from a twilight worldThe dowry of a relative mystery girlA vietnamese flower, a dockland unionA mistress of release from a magazines thighsThis magdalene contracts more than favoursThe feeding hands of western promise hold her by the throatA son of the swastika of 45, parading a peroxide standardGraffitti disciples conjure testaments of hatredAerosol wands whisper where the searchlights trim the barbed wire hedgesThis is brixton chessA knight for embankments folds his newspaper castleA creature of habit, begs the boatmans coinHell fade with old soldiers in the grease-stained roll-callLinger with the heartburn of good fridays last supperSon watches father scan obituary columnsIn search of absent school friendsWhile his generation digests high-fibre ignoranceCowering behind curtains and the taped up, painted windowsDecriminalized genocide, provided door-to-door belsensPandoras box of holocaustsGracefully cruising satellite-infested heavensWaiting, the season of the buttonThe penultimate migrationRadioactive perfumes for the fashionablyFor the terminally insane, insaneDo you realise, do you realise, do you realiseThis world is totally fugaziWhere are the prophets, where are the visionariesWhere are the poets, to breach the dawn of the sentimental mercenary?
