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Elvis Costello

Satellite

She looked like she learned to dance from a series of still pictures
Shes madly excited now, she throws her hands up like a tulip
She looks like an illustration of a cocktail party
Where cartoon bubbles burst in the air,
Champagne rolls off her tongue like a second language
And it should have been her biggest night
The satellite looks down on her as she begins to cry
All over the world at the very same time people sharing the same sorrow
As the satellite looks down her darkest hour is somebodys bright tomorrow
He pulled on a cigarette, in the crook of his first finger
Felt the static electric charge of her perfect hour-glass figure
As he undressed her with his eyes her weakness was his talent
How could she know as she stepped through the lights, that her dress would become transparent
And with his face pressed to the screen,
He muttered words hed never dare to say if she could see him
All over the world at the very same time
People sharing the same cheap sensation the
Thrill of watching somebody watching those
Forbidden things we never mention
Chorus:

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When I Was Cruel No. 2

I exit through the spotlight glare
I stepped out into thin air
Into a perfume so rarefied
"Here comes the bride"
Not quite aside, they snide "She's number four"
"There's number three just by the door"
Those in the know, don't even flatter her,
They go one better
"She was selling speedboats in a tradeshow when he met her"
Look at her now
She's starting to yawn
She looks like she was born to it
But it was so much easier
When I was cruel
She reaches out her arms to me
Imploring: "Another melody?"
So she can dance her husband out on the floor
The captains of industry just lie there where they fall
In eau-de-nil and pale carnation creation
A satin sash and velvet elevation

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Starting To Come To Me

Its started to come to me
Your new career would probably end like this
All that professional lipstick pressed into an amateur kiss
Farewell to the studied lines and carefully broken hearts
The overpowering perfume and the glimpse of her garter
Mingling with the sweet smoldering scent of the martyr
Well its starting to come to me (come to me, come to me)
Starting to come to me
So you began to recognize the well-dressed man that everybody loves
It started when you chopped off all the fingers of those pony skin gloves
Then you cut a hole out where the lovelight used to shine
Your tears of pleasure equal measure crocodile and brine
You try to laugh it off saying I knew all the time...
But its starting to come to me (come to me, come to me)
Starting to come to me
Sometimes you bring me down to play reluctant confidant
You say you may reward him if he gives you what you want
But these are days to treasure and to hold
They are much too precious to be sold
Youd probably play the pirate if you werent so busy digging up the gold

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Gods Comic

Wish youd known me when I was alive, I was a funny feller
The crowd would hoot and holler for more
I wore a drunks red nose for applause
Oh yes I was a comical priest
With a joke for the flock and a hand up your fleece
Drooling the drink and the lipstick and greasepaint
Down the cardboard front of my dirty dog-collar
Chorus:
Now Im dead, now Im dead, now Im dead,
Now Im dead, now Im dead
And Im going on to meet my reward
I was scared, I was scared, I was scared, I was scared
He might of never heard gods comic
So there he was on a water-bed
Drinking a cola of a mystery brand
Reading an airport novelette, listening to andrew lloyd-webbers requiem
He said, before it had really begun, I prefer the one about my son
Ive been wading through all this unbelievable
Junk and wondering if I should have given
The world to the monkeys

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Back On My Feet

(mccartney/macmanus)
How many days does the wet weather lack?
I wanna go where the clouds when they roll back
Reveal a man in an old mack
Living on a park bench
Sitting on his own
Cut to the rain as it rolls down the glass
But then she leaves through the lightning and thunder
You see a man going under
This is how it happens
This is what he said
I dont need love
Temptation is sweet
Give me your hand
Till Im back on my feet
Youre always telling me
About my misery
Ill see things youll never see
Dont pity me
Focus in on the breath of a man

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20% Amnesia

What is your destiny? the police woman said....(20% amnesia)
The word that she wanted was destination i'm afraid (20% amnesia)
This is your future boy, this is your fate (20% amnesia)
And you're obsolete and they can't afford to educate you (20% amnesia)
In his bedtime boot boy jersey
Ringing up some fantasy tart
Give me strength or give me mercy
Life intimidates art
Chorus:
Give me strength or give me mercy
Don't let me lose heart
From rage to anaesthesia
Twenty percent amnesia
Were you passed out on the sofa (20% amnesia)
While justice was bartered by a drunken oaf? (20% amnesia)
This is all your glorious country thinks of your life (20% amnesia)
Stripped jack naked with a stanley knife (20% amnesia)
So the german queen went home again
But she couldn't find forgiveness
They made a fist of her hand of friendship

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Monkey To Man

A long time ago, our point of view
Was broadcast by Mr. Bartholomew
And now the world is full of sorrow and pain
And it's time for us to speak up again
You're slack and sorry
Such an arrogant brood
The only purpose you serve is to bring us our food
We sit here staring at your pomp and pout
Outside the bars we use for keeping you out
You've taken everything that you wanted
Broke it up and plundered it and hunted
Ever since we said it
You went and took the credit
It's been headed this way since the world began
When a vicious creature took the jump from Monkey to Man
Monkey to Man
Every time man struggles and fails
He makes up some kind of fairytales
After all of the misery that he has caused
He denies he's descended from the dinosaurs

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Episode Of Blonde

I spy for the "Spirit of Curiosity"
All the scandals of each vain monstrosity
I gossip and I pry and I insinuate
If the failure is great
Then it tends to fascinate
A tornado dropped a funnel cloud with twenty tons of rain
Though she had the attention span of warm cellophane
Her lovers fell like skittles in a 10-pin bowling lane
But nothing could compare with the explosion of fame
So you jumped back with alarm
Every Elvis has his army
Every rattlesnake his charm
Can you still hear me?
Am I coming through just fine?
Your memory was buried in simple box of pine
Did her green eyes seduce you and make you get so weak?
Was there fire engine red that she left upon your cheek?
It's such a shame you had to break the heart
You could have counted on but the last thing you need is another
Episode of blonde

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Starting To Come To Me (live)

It's started to come to me
Your new career would probably end like this
All that professional lipstick pressed into an amateur kiss
Farewell to the studied lines and carefully broken hearts
The overpowering perfume and the glimpse of her garter
Mingling with the sweet smoldering scent of the martyr
Well it's starting to come to me (come to me, come to me)
Starting to come to me
So you began to recognize the well-dressed man that everybody loves
It started when you chopped off all the fingers of those pony skin gloves
Then you cut a hole out where the lovelight used to shine
Your tears of pleasure equal measure crocodile and brine
You try to laugh it off saying "I knew all the time...
But it's starting to come to me" (come to me, come to me)
Starting to come to me
Sometimes you bring me down to play reluctant confidant
You say you may reward him if he gives you what you want
But these are days to treasure and to hold
They are much too precious to be sold
You'd probably play the pirate if you weren't so busy digging up the gold

[...] Read more

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Your Mind Is On Vacation

I see you laughin'
Right in my face
I guess i'm gonna have to
Put you in your place
Because if silence was golden
You couldn't raise a dime
Because your mind is on vacation
And your mouth is working overtime
You're quoting figures
And dropping names
You're tellin' stories
About the dames
You're over-laughin'
When things ain't funny
You're tryin' to sound
Like you're the big money, honey
If talk was criminal
You'd lead a life of crime
Because your mind is on vacation
And your mouth is working overtime

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