Being a big time slaver family agent is a how to get one’s way and to prey on others until it isn’t anymore. Pluto in Capricorn.
Tramp The Dirt Down lyrics
I saw a newspaper picture from the political campaign
A woman was kissing a child, who was obviously in pain
She spills with compassion, as that young child's face in her hands she grips
Can you imagine all that greed and avarice coming down on that child's lips?
Well I hope I don't die too soon, I pray the Lord my soul to save
Yes, I'll be a good boy, I'm trying so hard to behave
Because there's one thing I know, I'd like to live long enough to savour
That's when they finally put you in the ground
I'll stand on your grave and tramp the dirt down
When England was the whore of the world, Margaret was her madam
And the future looked as bright and as clear as the black tarmacadam
Well I hope that she sleeps well at night, isn't haunted by every tiny detail
When she held that lovely face in her hands all she thought of was betrayal
And now the cynical ones say that it all ends the same in the long run
Try telling that to the desperate father who just squeezed the life from his only son
And how it's only voices in your head and dreams you never dreamt
Try telling him the subtle difference between justice and contempt
Try telling me she isn't angry with this pitiful discontent
When they flaunt it in your face as you line up for punishment
And then expect you to say "Thank you", straighten up, look proud and pleased
Because you've only got the symptoms, you haven't got the whole disease
Just like a schoolboy, whose head's like a tin-can
Filled up with dreams then poured down the drain
Try telling that to the boys on both sides, being blown to bits or beaten and maimed
Who takes all the glory but none of the shame?
Well I hope you live long now, I pray the Lord your soul to keep
I think I'll be going before we fold our arms and start to weep
I never thought for a moment that human life could be so cheap
But when they finally put you in the ground
They'll stand there laughing and tramp the dirt down
Alternate lyrics
Alternate lyrics performed 1991-08-03, Thurles, Ireland:
When England was the whore of the world, Margaret was her madam
And the future looked as bright and as clear as the black tarmacadam
And if she seemed bulletproof I put it down to black magic
Every day now we're invited to pity the tragic
Forlorn faded figure whose story's on sale
As she finally swallows the fine bitter flavour that she likes to think is betrayal
While I pity those who forgot and forgave
I believe she should be hounded down into her grave
Along with the glove puppet that they put in her place
The simpering chump with the whimpering face
And whose classless society we all might applaud
On the day he gets round to shutting down the House of Lords
And kicking the royal cuckoos out of the nest
And placing the Queen Mother under arrest
Church Underground lyrics
She stood spotlit in a plain print dress
Came howling out of the wilderness
There beat a cunning and murderous heart
Beneath that calm exterior
"You know my name
You don't know my mind
Don't doubt my eyes
They betray the past
And I've already forgotten
Much more than you will ever know"
And every word that I have spoken is true
Except for those that were broken in two
I'm trying to make peace after a long night of pretend
I need a pawnbroker or moneylender
Why do you do me down, Mister?
Sing "Hallelujah," Sister
Turn up the volume, just to turn it down
The trivial secrets buried with profound
It's enough to put a Church Underground
Deflowered young and then ever since
She's tried to wash off his fingerprints
So every charlatan and prince
Was made to feel inferior
She worked for tips in a 10-cent dance
Said moving pictures might pay perchance
10,000 one-way tickets to the sparkling coast
From the blank interior
Everybody's either talking in code
Or getting ready to explode
Then she was singing with five-piece band
But seems that no-one wants this sound
Why do you do me down, Mister?
Sing "Hallelujah," Sister
Turn up the volume, just to turn it down
The trivial secrets buried with profound
It's enough to put a Church Underground
The shaft of fanlight streaked with rain
Poured through the glass, punched through the pain
A holy picture hidden in the midden of that poisoned stitch
Her lonely voice was just a ruin in these riches
Must have been dreaming this all along
Could she be redeeming herself in song?
“I'm no-one's martyred, plaster saint
Below the grease, beneath the paint”
I'm rolling like barrel
Swinging like a gallows
I'm rising up fast like all hell and all hallows
Why do you do me down, Mister?
Sing "Hallelujah," Sister
I'll be damned or purgatory bound
Before those jokers ever understand
It's enough to put a Church Underground
Utopia, KS, 1915 To The Garden of Allah,
Hollywood, California, 1947
