Wire - Practice Makes Perfect Lyrics
Doubting Thomas parks his car in his Sunday bestTaps his wallet, straightens tie, lights a cigarettePilgrim's progress, no journey's endWhich way Michael?Through the door he scans the bar, then a space appearsHis drink is poured, for he is numb, the service it starts hereHe sees it in the barmaid's face, a winning smile's caressA million eyes in public stalk, the queue up to confessLost causes, loves, hates and shames, old battles fought and wonBad debts, bad tips, the graveyard song, the dreamers talk in tonguesHaloes swarm, the air is thin, thick smoke in tights of blueElvis has a wooden heart, eyes dart across the roomEmpty heads and stomachs full, the ashtrays overflowDrinks are raised and voices praise good deeds of long agoHe drains his glass and makes a sign, the Virgin Queen appearsThe Prince King needs a tender touch, his sacred heart knows no fearUpon a cloud on optic shrine, he can't control his tearsOn his knees, hands held in prayer, a practice lapsed for yearsThe altar clears, the light grows dim, the sanctus bell is rungA miracle at closing time, our lady holds her sonThe faithful come to celebrate the vision Thomas sawA rail now stands around the spot where Thomas kissed the floorAmen
