Caressing bent up to the jug again
With sheaths and pills
Invading all those stills
In a hovel of a bed
I will scream in vain
Oh please, miss lane
Leave me with some pain
Went walking through this city's neon lights
In fear of disguising my warping seathing
Pressure lines and graceless heirs
Intangible of price
Trying so hard to find what was right
I came upon your room it stuck into my head
We leapt into the bed degrading even lice
You took delight in taking down
All my shielded pride
Until exposed became my darker side
Puckering up and down some avenue of sin
Too cheap to ride they're worth a try
If only for the old times, cold times
Don't go waving your pretentious love
He's soliciting on his tan brown brogues (Dark Entries,......)
Girating through some lonesome devils row (Dark Entries,......)
Pinpointing well meaning upper class prey (Dark Entries,......)
Of walking money checks possessing holes (Dark Entries,......)
He often sleekly offers his services (Dark Entries,......)
Exploitation of his finer years (Dark Entries,......)
Work with loosely woven fabrics (Dark Entries,......)
Of lonely office clerks (Dark Entries,......)
Any lay suffices his dollar green eye (Dark Entries,......)
I came upon your room it stuck into my head
We leapt into the bed degrading even lice
You took delight in taking down
All my shielded pride
Until exposed became my darker side
Puckering up and down some avenue of sin
Too cheap to ride they're worth a try
If only for the old times, cold times
Don't go waving your pretentious love
Dark Entries
Dark Entries
Dark Entries
Dark Entries
Bauhaus - In the Flat Field Album Lyrics
Bauhaus - In the Flat Field Lyrics
Writer: DANIEL GASTON ASH, DAVID JAY, KEVIN HASKINS, PETER JOHN MURPHY
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group, Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd.
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group, Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd.
Double Dare
I dare you, to be real
To touch a flickering flame
The pangs of dark delight
Don't cower in night fright
Don't back away just yet
From destinations set
I dare you to be proud
To dare to shout aloud
For convictions that you feel
Like sound from bells to peal
I dare you to speak of your despise
For bureaucracy, hypocracy- all liars
I dare
I dare
I dare- you- you
To touch a flickering flame
The pangs of dark delight
Don't cower in night fright
Don't back away just yet
From destinations set
I dare you to be proud
To dare to shout aloud
For convictions that you feel
Like sound from bells to peal
I dare you to speak of your despise
For bureaucracy, hypocracy- all liars
I dare
I dare
I dare- you- you
Writer: ASH, HASKINS, JAY, MURPHY
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group, Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd.
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group, Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd.
In The Flat Field
A gut pull drag on me
Into the chasm gaping we
Mirrors multy reflecting this
Between spunk stained sheet
And odourous whim
Calmer eye- flick- shudder- within
Assist me to walk away in sin
Where is the string that Theseus laid
Find me out this labyrinth place
I do get bored, I get bored
In the flat field
I get bored, I do get bored
In the flat field
Yin and Yang lumber punch
Go taste a tart then eat my lunch
And force my slender thin and lean
In this solemn place of fill wetting dreams
Of black matted lace of pregnant cows
As life maps out onto my brow
The card is lowered in index turn
Into my filing cabinet hemispheres spurn
I do get bored, I get bored
In the flat field
I get bored, I do get bored
In the flat field
Let me catch the slit of light
For a maiden's sake
On a maiden flight
In the flat field I do get bored
Replace with Picadilly whores
In my yearn for some cerebral fix
Transfer me to that solid plain
Moulding shapes no shame to waste
Moulding shapes no shame to waste
And drag me there with deafening haste
Into the chasm gaping we
Mirrors multy reflecting this
Between spunk stained sheet
And odourous whim
Calmer eye- flick- shudder- within
Assist me to walk away in sin
Where is the string that Theseus laid
Find me out this labyrinth place
I do get bored, I get bored
In the flat field
I get bored, I do get bored
In the flat field
Yin and Yang lumber punch
Go taste a tart then eat my lunch
And force my slender thin and lean
In this solemn place of fill wetting dreams
Of black matted lace of pregnant cows
As life maps out onto my brow
The card is lowered in index turn
Into my filing cabinet hemispheres spurn
I do get bored, I get bored
In the flat field
I get bored, I do get bored
In the flat field
Let me catch the slit of light
For a maiden's sake
On a maiden flight
In the flat field I do get bored
Replace with Picadilly whores
In my yearn for some cerebral fix
Transfer me to that solid plain
Moulding shapes no shame to waste
Moulding shapes no shame to waste
And drag me there with deafening haste
Writer: ASH, HASKINS, JAY, MURPHY
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group, Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd.
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group, Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd.
A God in an Alcove
Go and look for the dejected once proud
Idol remembered in stone aloud
Then on coins his face was mirrored
Take a look it soon hath slithered
To a fractured marble slab, renunciation clad
His nourishment extract from his subjects
That mass production profile
He's a God- in- in an alcove
Once he spread the rain
So they dreamt in vain
Once he spread the wheat
Had made garlands for his feet
Until the lily poet of our times
Horizoned on the line
Love became the in theme then
Opposing fakers thrice by ten
Don't perceive his empty plea
That redundant effigy
He's a God- in- in an alcove
Take in view his empty stool
What's left is satin cool
Clawing adornment for his crimes
They saw they had to draw the line
So they sent him far away
So they sent him far away
To a little alcove
To a little alcove
All alone
He's a God, a God
Now I am silly
Now I am silly
Silly, silly, silly, silly
Silly
Idol remembered in stone aloud
Then on coins his face was mirrored
Take a look it soon hath slithered
To a fractured marble slab, renunciation clad
His nourishment extract from his subjects
That mass production profile
He's a God- in- in an alcove
Once he spread the rain
So they dreamt in vain
Once he spread the wheat
Had made garlands for his feet
Until the lily poet of our times
Horizoned on the line
Love became the in theme then
Opposing fakers thrice by ten
Don't perceive his empty plea
That redundant effigy
He's a God- in- in an alcove
Take in view his empty stool
What's left is satin cool
Clawing adornment for his crimes
They saw they had to draw the line
So they sent him far away
So they sent him far away
To a little alcove
To a little alcove
All alone
He's a God, a God
Now I am silly
Now I am silly
Silly, silly, silly, silly
Silly
Writer: DANIEL GASTON ASH, DAVID JAY, DAVID JOHN HASKINS, PETER JOHN MURPHY
Copyright: Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd.
Copyright: Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd.
Dive
We're going down
We're going down
We're going down
To the kamikaze dive
Fishnet leatherette
Pussy Galore
Pseudo Sumo wrestler
On the door
Dangerous dances
The dragon's claw
K-Tel Oriental
The monkey's paw
You're a dead ringer
For Madame Butterfly
Snappy little fingers
Stitch my thigh
You're so necromantic
Venomous and vain
Mixing molotov cocktails
In the subterrain
We're going down to the kamikazi dive
Like insects in a Chinese lantern now
We're feeling so alive, what's showing?
We're going down to the kamikaze dive
Like manic moths in Chinese lanterns now
We're feeling so alive, what's showing?
We're going down
We're going down
To the kamikaze dive
Fishnet leatherette
Pussy Galore
Pseudo Sumo wrestler
On the door
Dangerous dances
The dragon's claw
K-Tel Oriental
The monkey's paw
You're a dead ringer
For Madame Butterfly
Snappy little fingers
Stitch my thigh
You're so necromantic
Venomous and vain
Mixing molotov cocktails
In the subterrain
We're going down to the kamikazi dive
Like insects in a Chinese lantern now
We're feeling so alive, what's showing?
We're going down to the kamikaze dive
Like manic moths in Chinese lanterns now
We're feeling so alive, what's showing?
Writer: DANIEL GASTON ASH, DAVID JAY, KEVIN HASKINS, PETER JOHN MURPHY
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group
Spy in the Cab
Hidden in the dashboard
The unseen mechanized eye
Under surveillance
The road is full of cats eyes
It's sick function to pry
The spy in the cab
Coldly observing, callously reserving
A drivers time
Automated autonomy
Playing on his mind
The spy in the cab
The spy in the cab
An eye for an eye
A spy for an eye
An eye for an eye
A spy for a spy
A twenty-four hour unblinking watch
Installed to pry
Installed to cop
The spy in the cab
The spy in the cab
The spy in the cab
I spy with my little eye spy with my little I spy with my
Little eye spy with my little I spy
The unseen mechanized eye
Under surveillance
The road is full of cats eyes
It's sick function to pry
The spy in the cab
Coldly observing, callously reserving
A drivers time
Automated autonomy
Playing on his mind
The spy in the cab
The spy in the cab
An eye for an eye
A spy for an eye
An eye for an eye
A spy for a spy
A twenty-four hour unblinking watch
Installed to pry
Installed to cop
The spy in the cab
The spy in the cab
The spy in the cab
I spy with my little eye spy with my little I spy with my
Little eye spy with my little I spy
Writer: DANIEL GASTON ASH, KEVIN HASKINS, DAVID JAY, PETER JOHN MURPHY
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group
Small Talk Stinks
Small talk stinks
Small talk stinks
Small talk stinks
Small talk stinks
See the young man in his new gown
Talking up to his bouffant drag
He say he loves you with flowers
Something that he's never had
A sentence should be like a serpent
Quick with a sting in its tail
String me a line that has meaning and depth
There's no small talk with walky talkies
Small talk stinks
I said it stinks
Small talk stinks
Small talk stinks
You whisper sweet nothings chit-chat back-chat
There's no idle gossip in braille
Taking combs three times a day
Twice an hour
Identikit cute lips from wall to wall
Stand in line for the photo call
See the young man in his new gown
Talking up to his bouffant drag
Small talk stinks
Small talk stinks
Small talk stinks
Small talk stinks
Small talk stinks
Small talk stinks
Small talk stinks
See the young man in his new gown
Talking up to his bouffant drag
He say he loves you with flowers
Something that he's never had
A sentence should be like a serpent
Quick with a sting in its tail
String me a line that has meaning and depth
There's no small talk with walky talkies
Small talk stinks
I said it stinks
Small talk stinks
Small talk stinks
You whisper sweet nothings chit-chat back-chat
There's no idle gossip in braille
Taking combs three times a day
Twice an hour
Identikit cute lips from wall to wall
Stand in line for the photo call
See the young man in his new gown
Talking up to his bouffant drag
Small talk stinks
Small talk stinks
Small talk stinks
Small talk stinks
Writer: DANIEL GASTON ASH, DAVID JAY, KEVIN HASKINS, PETER JOHN MURPHY
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group
St. Vitus Dance
Back in the good old dance when dancing meant exploding
The idea was simple for a decent overloading
And for a multiple flash with no cords attached
He came up with a more remote flash trigger
It's connected to an accessory in his hip
Which automatically fires in perfect synchro
But perhaps his most exciting development is his angle
They call it the dance
It's the St. Vitus dance
Such flexibility
What an accessory
See his soft bounce
What flexibility
Such a soft bounce
What an accessory
And for special effects he has six filters
Three coloured red with the others pilfered
And if you really want to know what that means
He could throw a blue flash from eighty-five feet
Of course you might want to check out your own little output
So we devised a few simple and easy to crack contortions
So you can bump and scrape all the day through
With the dance.
It's the St. Vitus dance, the St. Vitus dance
Such flexibility
What an accessory
Such a soft bounce
What flexibility
Such a soft bounce
Check his hot shoe
Feel his output
He's a light machine, see his angle
He's a light machine
The idea was simple for a decent overloading
And for a multiple flash with no cords attached
He came up with a more remote flash trigger
It's connected to an accessory in his hip
Which automatically fires in perfect synchro
But perhaps his most exciting development is his angle
They call it the dance
It's the St. Vitus dance
Such flexibility
What an accessory
See his soft bounce
What flexibility
Such a soft bounce
What an accessory
And for special effects he has six filters
Three coloured red with the others pilfered
And if you really want to know what that means
He could throw a blue flash from eighty-five feet
Of course you might want to check out your own little output
So we devised a few simple and easy to crack contortions
So you can bump and scrape all the day through
With the dance.
It's the St. Vitus dance, the St. Vitus dance
Such flexibility
What an accessory
Such a soft bounce
What flexibility
Such a soft bounce
Check his hot shoe
Feel his output
He's a light machine, see his angle
He's a light machine
Writer: ASH, HASKINS, JAY, MURPHY
Copyright: Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Universal Music Publishing Group
Copyright: Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Universal Music Publishing Group
Stigmata Martyr
In a crucifiction ecstasy
Lying cross chequed in agony
Stigmata bleed continuously
Holes in head, hands, feet, and weep for me
Stigmata oh you sordid sight
Stigmata in your splintered plight
Look into your crimson orifice
In holy remembrance
In scarlet bliss
In nomine patri et filii et spiriti sanctum
In nomine patri et filii et spiriti sanctum
In nomine patri et filii et spiriti sanctum
In nomine patri et filii et spiriti sanctum
Father, son, and holy ghost
Stigmata Martyr
Lying cross chequed in agony
Stigmata bleed continuously
Holes in head, hands, feet, and weep for me
Stigmata oh you sordid sight
Stigmata in your splintered plight
Look into your crimson orifice
In holy remembrance
In scarlet bliss
In nomine patri et filii et spiriti sanctum
In nomine patri et filii et spiriti sanctum
In nomine patri et filii et spiriti sanctum
In nomine patri et filii et spiriti sanctum
Father, son, and holy ghost
Stigmata Martyr
Writer: DANIEL GASTON ASH, DAVID JAY, KEVIN HASKINS, PETER JOHN MURPHY
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group, Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd.
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group, Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd.
Nerves
Nerve ends tick in flicker book animation
One eye's closed in fear, anticipation
Will it stay shut? Will it ever open?
What if?
What if?
Nerves
Tell tale tongues lick at seven senses
Brittle spittle sparks you are defenseless
The fabric of dreams is ripped apart
As you feel the twist of the shadowed dagger
In your pumping heart
Nerves
Nerves like nylon, nerves like steel
Nerves like nylon, nerves like steel
A trail of random cutlery cuts a dash in the concrete underpass
Sense of serenity is shattered in the glint of splintered glass
Nerves
Nerves
Nerves, nerves
Nerves like nylon, nerves like steel
Nerves like nylon, nerves like steel
Nerves like nylon, nerves like steel
Nerves like nylon, nerves like steel
Nerves like nylon, nerves like steel
Nerves like nylon, nerves like steel
Nerves like nylon, nerves like steel
Nerves like nylon, nerves like steel
Nerves like nylon, nerves like steel
Nerves like nylon, nerves like steel
Nerves like nylon, nerves like steel
Nerves like nylon, nerves like steel
Nerves like nylon, nerves like steel
Stop
One eye's closed in fear, anticipation
Will it stay shut? Will it ever open?
What if?
What if?
Nerves
Tell tale tongues lick at seven senses
Brittle spittle sparks you are defenseless
The fabric of dreams is ripped apart
As you feel the twist of the shadowed dagger
In your pumping heart
Nerves
Nerves like nylon, nerves like steel
Nerves like nylon, nerves like steel
A trail of random cutlery cuts a dash in the concrete underpass
Sense of serenity is shattered in the glint of splintered glass
Nerves
Nerves
Nerves, nerves
Nerves like nylon, nerves like steel
Nerves like nylon, nerves like steel
Nerves like nylon, nerves like steel
Nerves like nylon, nerves like steel
Nerves like nylon, nerves like steel
Nerves like nylon, nerves like steel
Nerves like nylon, nerves like steel
Nerves like nylon, nerves like steel
Nerves like nylon, nerves like steel
Nerves like nylon, nerves like steel
Nerves like nylon, nerves like steel
Nerves like nylon, nerves like steel
Nerves like nylon, nerves like steel
Stop
Writer: Daniel Gaston Ash, David Jay, Kevin Haskins, Peter John Murphy
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group
Telegram Sam
(marc bolan)
Telegram Sam
Telegram Sam
You're my main man
Golden nose slim
Golden nose slim
I know's where you been
Purple pie Pete
Purple pie Pete
Your lips are like lightning
Girls melt in the heat
Telegram Sam
You're my main man
(x2)
Bobby's alright
Bobby's alright
He's a natural-born poet
He's just outta sight
Jungle-faced Jake
Jungle-faced Jake
I say make no mistake
About Jungle-faced Jake
Automatic shoes
Automatic shoes
Give me 3-D vision
And the California blues
Me I funk
But I don't care
I ain't no square with my corkscrew hair
Telegram Sam
Telegram Sam
I'm a howlin' wolf for you
Telegram Sam
Telegram Sam
You're my main man
Golden nose slim
Golden nose slim
I know's where you been
Purple pie Pete
Purple pie Pete
Your lips are like lightning
Girls melt in the heat
Telegram Sam
You're my main man
(x2)
Bobby's alright
Bobby's alright
He's a natural-born poet
He's just outta sight
Jungle-faced Jake
Jungle-faced Jake
I say make no mistake
About Jungle-faced Jake
Automatic shoes
Automatic shoes
Give me 3-D vision
And the California blues
Me I funk
But I don't care
I ain't no square with my corkscrew hair
Telegram Sam
Telegram Sam
I'm a howlin' wolf for you
Writer: Marc Bolan
Copyright: Lyrics © Spirit Music Group
Copyright: Lyrics © Spirit Music Group
Rosegarden Funeral of Sores
(john cale)
Virgin Mary was tired
So tired
Tired of listening to gossip
Gossip and complaints
They came from next door
And a bewildered stream of chatter
From all sorts of
All sorts of
Untidy whores
Came from next door
Came from next door
But some men are chosen from the rest
But their disappointment runs with their guests
Never would be invited to the funeral rosegarden
But their choice don't seem to matter
They got swollen breasts and lips that putter
And their choice of matter and their scream of chatter
Is just a little parasitic scream of whores
Screaming whores
In the rosegarden funeral of sores
Virgin Mary was tired
So tired of listening to gossip
Gossip and complaints
In the
In the
Rosegarden
Rosegarden funeral of sores
Virgin Mary was tired
So tired
Tired of listening to gossip
Gossip and complaints
They came from next door
And a bewildered stream of chatter
From all sorts of
All sorts of
Untidy whores
Came from next door
Came from next door
But some men are chosen from the rest
But their disappointment runs with their guests
Never would be invited to the funeral rosegarden
But their choice don't seem to matter
They got swollen breasts and lips that putter
And their choice of matter and their scream of chatter
Is just a little parasitic scream of whores
Screaming whores
In the rosegarden funeral of sores
Virgin Mary was tired
So tired of listening to gossip
Gossip and complaints
In the
In the
Rosegarden
Rosegarden funeral of sores
Writer: JOHN DAVIES CALE
Copyright: Lyrics © GARNANT MUSIC
Copyright: Lyrics © GARNANT MUSIC
Terror Couple Kill Colonel
His eyes were heavy
He carried a card
One couple question
The other discharged
Terror couple kill colonel
in his West German home
Three shots from three feet
Dragged himself to the phone
Terror couple kill colonel
Terror couple kill colonel
And as he lay there
Playing games with his pain
He felt his choice of jobs
Was such a mistake
He could have been a doctor
In a soft easy chair
In stead he chose three stars
A territorial affair
Terror couple kill colonel
Terror couple kill colonel
In his West German home
In his West German home
In his West German home
He carried a card
One couple question
The other discharged
Terror couple kill colonel
in his West German home
Three shots from three feet
Dragged himself to the phone
Terror couple kill colonel
Terror couple kill colonel
And as he lay there
Playing games with his pain
He felt his choice of jobs
Was such a mistake
He could have been a doctor
In a soft easy chair
In stead he chose three stars
A territorial affair
Terror couple kill colonel
Terror couple kill colonel
In his West German home
In his West German home
In his West German home
Writer: Daniel Gaston Ash, David Jay, Kevin Haskins, Peter John Murphy
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group
Scopes
Scopes
Scopes
Scopes
Scopes
Electroscope
Galvanascope
Hydroscope
Polemescope
Telescope
Microscope
Sizemoscope
Periscope
Polariscope
Kaleidoscope
Stethoscope
The twenty scopes
The twenty scopes
The twenty scopes
The twenty scopes
The twenty scopes
Scopes
Scopes
Scopes
Electroscope
Galvanascope
Hydroscope
Polemescope
Telescope
Microscope
Sizemoscope
Periscope
Polariscope
Kaleidoscope
Stethoscope
The twenty scopes
The twenty scopes
The twenty scopes
The twenty scopes
The twenty scopes
Writer: DANIEL GASTON ASH, DAVID JAY, KEVIN HASKINS, PETER JOHN MURPHY
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group
Copyright: Lyrics © Original Writer and Publisher
God In An Alcove
Go and look for the dejected
Once proud idol remembered in stone aloud
Then on coins his face was mirrored
Take a look it soon hath slithered
To a fractured marble slab, renunciation clad
His nourishment extract from his subjects, subjects
That mass production profile
He's a God in an alcove
Once he spread the rain
So they dreamt in vain
Once he spread the wheat
Had made some garlands for his feet
Until the lily poet of our times
Horizoned on the line
Love became the in theme then
Opposing fakers thrice by ten
Don't perceive his empty plea
That redundant effigy
He's a God in an alcove
Take in view his empty stool
What's left is satin cool
Clawing adornment for his crimes
They saw they had to draw the line
So they sent him far away
So they sent him far away
To a little alcove
To a little alcove
All alone
He's a God, a God
Now I am silly
Now I am silly
Silly, silly, silly, silly
Silly
Once proud idol remembered in stone aloud
Then on coins his face was mirrored
Take a look it soon hath slithered
To a fractured marble slab, renunciation clad
His nourishment extract from his subjects, subjects
That mass production profile
He's a God in an alcove
Once he spread the rain
So they dreamt in vain
Once he spread the wheat
Had made some garlands for his feet
Until the lily poet of our times
Horizoned on the line
Love became the in theme then
Opposing fakers thrice by ten
Don't perceive his empty plea
That redundant effigy
He's a God in an alcove
Take in view his empty stool
What's left is satin cool
Clawing adornment for his crimes
They saw they had to draw the line
So they sent him far away
So they sent him far away
To a little alcove
To a little alcove
All alone
He's a God, a God
Now I am silly
Now I am silly
Silly, silly, silly, silly
Silly
Writer: DANIEL GASTON ASH, DAVID JAY, DAVID JOHN HASKINS, PETER JOHN MURPHY
Copyright: Lyrics © Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd.
Copyright: Lyrics © Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd.
Crowds
What do you want of me
What do you long from me
A slim Pixie, thin and forlorn
A count, white and drawn
What do you make of me
What can you take from me
Pallid landscapes off my frown
Let me rip you up and down
For you I came to forsake
Lay wide despise and hate
I sing of you in my demented songs
For you and your stimulations
Take what you can of me
Rip what you can off me
And this I'll say to you
And hope that it gets through
You worthless bitch
You fickle shit
You will spit on me
You will make me spit
And when the Judas howl arise
And like the Jesus Jews you epitomize
I'll still be here as strong as you
And I'll walk away in spite of you
And I'll walk away
Away
Walk away
(repeat)
What do you long from me
A slim Pixie, thin and forlorn
A count, white and drawn
What do you make of me
What can you take from me
Pallid landscapes off my frown
Let me rip you up and down
For you I came to forsake
Lay wide despise and hate
I sing of you in my demented songs
For you and your stimulations
Take what you can of me
Rip what you can off me
And this I'll say to you
And hope that it gets through
You worthless bitch
You fickle shit
You will spit on me
You will make me spit
And when the Judas howl arise
And like the Jesus Jews you epitomize
I'll still be here as strong as you
And I'll walk away in spite of you
And I'll walk away
Away
Walk away
(repeat)
Writer: DANIEL GASTON ASH, DAVID JAY, KEVIN HASKINS, PETER JOHN MURPHY
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group
In the Flat Field is the debut studio album by English gothic rock band Bauhaus. It was recorded between December 1979 and July 1980, and released on 3 November 1980 by record label 4AD, the first full-length release on that label. The cover artwork is a reproduction of Duane Michals' 1949 photograph, Homage to Puvis de Chavannes.
In the Flat Field is considered one of the first gothic rock albums.
Performed By:
BauhausIn the Flat Field is considered one of the first gothic rock albums.
Genre(s): Post-punk, gothic rock, gothic
Length: 37:44
Released: November 3rd, 1980
Year: 1980