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Chorus:
Under the skin you
search for paradise
Under the skin some
kind of parasite
remains concealed
Under the skin a
true identity, a memory
will soon be revealed...
under the skin.
Hit that button,
no time to lose -
Everything's so
immediate,
You'd have it all
right now
If you get to choose
In your private
world,
Such a tiny world
Is something out
to get you under the skin?
Full of the promise
of paradise?
Paradise now?
Everything gets so
physical,
Everything's so
immediate
In your private
world,
Such a tiny world
Does something get
to you
under the skin?
He's been so many
people
he wore them all
like poisoned vests
still playing the
soliloquy from Hamlet
close to his chest.
Where do the actors
go
after the show?
Where do the actors
go?
He had his hour of
glory,
that's something
you should keep in mind
When he's drinking
in the cafe on the corner
there's no sense
of time
just waiting on
for Godot,
convinced he's been
here years before...
he's taken that
philosophy in German
square on the jaw
Where do the actors
go
after the show?
Where do the actors
go?
He made a bit of
money
that's something
you might like to know
he'll be drinking
in the cafe on the corner
after the show
Where do the actors
go
after the show?
Where do the actors
go?
Painting by numbers
doesn't add up,
Painting by numbers
doesn't add up,
it's passionless
bed-rest,
work-body that's
headless,
a head that's without
heart -
painting by numbers
doesn't add up to art.
Her constant vows
mean nothing,
not content alone
that sells -
The Market Theory
beckons,
no-one remembers
what the story tells,
no-one remembers
passion,
we just recite the
line
that art is fine
and fashion costly.
Painting by numbers
doesn't add up;
safety in numbers,
put your hands up
in mute surrender...
they'll break her
or bend her
for the heart on
her sleeve.
Painting by numbers
all the modern world believes.
And the whole thing
falls apart
when the movement's
more important than the art;
when we're more
concerned
with what's been
thought than said
this is the moment
when the culture's dead.
It's not that complicated,
it's simple as can
be:
she want to paint
her heart out,
they want a programme
for the B.B.C.
where academic critics
can talk of art that's fine
like holy wine -
the Blessed Intellectuals!
Painting by numbers,
safety in numbers...
The poets from Venus
assume that they've seen us -
they're quick to
depart.
Painting by numbers
doesn't add up to art.
Leave it out, leave
it in, no edits -
with a shout, with
a grin I said
it was a certainty
that I'd arrive
in an Escher sketch
we walk around
the drawing of lines.
The character uncertainty
as he contemplates
his lot
and tries to move
with urgency
though he's rooted
to the spot.
On the brink, on
the edge, but lately
what I think, what
I said escapes me
in a flash, a tiger
burning bright
does the visionary
trance obscure
the burgeoning night?
And she said "What
are you doing?"
And he said "What
do you think?"
Oh, no,
what on earth are
we doing?
The characters procrastinate
on the threshold
of the door;
there's something
here that fascinates,
though the meaning's
still unsure
and the plot so
thick...
is it some kind
of history?
Sketch the thumbnail
to the quick.
Oh, even though
it's full of contradiction,
though it's flawed
in the design
this is no fiction,
it's a lifeline.
Here we are, there
we went, full circle
shooting stars,
heaven-sent, turned turtle
on the beach are
shells are left behind
life a library,
like a memory
of our ghost-written
lives.
I guess we know this
silence well enough,
and you'll be going
by and by;
I'm scared that
anything I offer
might be taken for
a lie.
CH: All said and
done,
and there's no way
to make it any different,
I hold my tongue
as you're walking away.
So goodbye comes
-
oh, I don't want
to make it difficult
but nothing's easy
when there's nothing
left to say.
Now we only talk
as though time were heavy weather
with a storm-cloud
brewing on each hasty phrase...
all the words in
the world wouldn't put us back together.
Maybe we had our
opportunities,
most of those chances
passed us by;
I'm scared that
anything I offer
might be taken as
a bribe.
You're a sucker for
the punch
and the telegraph
bells are ringing
now it's coming
to the crunch
as you stumble on
the Jaffa Gate.
I think you know
how it happens on the stage
when the heavenly
choir are singing
you've been taken
by a perfect date.
You made the Mount
of Venus your Jerusalem,
you're marking time
as symbol for debate,
you hope to find
some moment close to infinite,
you hope to find
a perfect date.
A perfect date to
hesitate.
The future beckons
us on.
There comes a time
to hesitate -
I hope it won't
be too long.
You're a sucker for
the punch...
...you've been taken
by a perfect date.
You've been playing
on a hunch
and the strings
of your heart are zinging:
Yeh, you cut loose
from the bunch
But that doesn't
mean you've sealed your fate
I think you know
how it happens
Though it's strange
When the heavenly
choir start singing
You've been taken
by a perfect date
That is all we are,
that is all a man comprises
Chemicals alone
with no spirit, soul or ghost
Nothing so bizarre
No amount of faith
disguises what is true
is what we fear
the most
Nothing can survive
save the things
men leave behind
them
Any other case would
be really too absurd
If thoughts remained
alive
Surely modern science
would find them
No, the soul is
nothing but a word
All the wonders Man
achieves
emerge from cerebral
tissue
Chemical reactions'
ebb and surge
From that Thing
that is you...
It's a sad philosophy
But better sad than
wrong
Face the truth instead
When you're dead
you're dead,
When you're gone
you're gone
Now she's gone
Four pails of water
and a bagfull of salts
That is all she
was, all my lover represented -
That sounds just
as mad as saying she will never die
Fools may clutch
at straws
but truth must not
be circumvented
As the tree falls,
so must that tree lie!
No that sounds so
odd
Once I would have
preached it brightly
Now questions appear
I rationally can't ignore...
Nothingness or God
Which of them seems
more unlikely?
Once I would have
answered clearly
Now I only think
I'm nearly sure
(Chris Judge Smith)
Now, lover,
Slicing through
time in a perfect curve
Due for a moment
of energy
Somehow we'll get
what we most deserve
In the here and
now
In the here and now
Although completely
different people
In the moments before
and after having sex
We are time-locked
Cracked, forgotten
statues, we are
strangled in the
undergrowth
Lost in ancient
magic, we are motion
We are wonderful
flow
We are time-locked,
Unknowing of the
code, but addicted to the pulse
Now, lover,
Melt in the crucible,
flesh and blood
Bodies consumed
by the catalyst,
Somehow we'll raise
our sights from the mud
We are always now,
We are Always Now!
If we were always
here and now
Instead of slightly,
now and then
So immaterial, so
lost, embracing all
The grace that comes
before the fall
If we were always
here and now
Electric shiver
in the spine
How could we turn
away, see life as grey and drab?
How come we don't
see what we have?
If we were always
here and now
Soul to soul and
skin to skin...
Is it some kind
of make-believe,
Is it some kind
of dream we're in
With a mint copy
of original sin?
In the here and now...
Between sensation
at the nerve-ends
And arrival of information
at the cortex
Time elapses
Cracked, forgotten
statues, we are
strangled in the
undergrowth,
Lying on the mattress
of the magic
and the wonderful
Nothing really matters
as we're
sucked in by the
undertow...
We are Motion, we
are Feeling, we are Now!
Although completely
different people
In the moments before
and after having sex
We are time-locked,
we are time-locked,
Though we know each
time we touch
We did so in the
past
Now come on, come
on, lover
Slicing through
time in a perfect curve
Due for a moment
of energy
Somehow we'll get
what we most deserve...
In the here and
now
Melt in the crucible
flesh and blood
Bodies consumed
by the catalyst
Surrender to nothing,
welcome the flood
of the here and
now
Slicing through
time in a perfect curve
Due for a moment
of energy
Somehow we'll get
what we most deserve
Melt in the crucible,
flesh and blood
Bodies, consumed
by the catalyst
Surrender to nothing,
nip the thought in the bud
We are always now,
We are Always Now!
If we were always here and now...
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