The Crushed Velvet Apocalypse (Legendary Pink Dots)

I Love You in Your Tragic Beauty

I watched you in your tragic beuaty walk beneth my window. Eyes aimed high, but unfocused . . . . sure, you never noticed me. You always wore the same dress; always bore the same expression: "It's a loveless world so what's the point of looking? Let it be . . ." I considered throwing roses--thought I'd maybe wave a flag. Had to try and force some small connection-- but, there's a snag. It's my confession that I watch you in my tragic isolation. In my fear . . . that's the way it's been for years. That's the way it will always be . . .

The Green Gang

Drowning in dog stew and strangled in vine. Blister wine burns the inside . . . (They flew in a line over poppy fields. They'd drop and they'd blast their supply. On demand! They persist. They pervert. They command: "RED alert." And green burns to yellow, to orange, to dirt covered baby bones in powder piles. Mile after mile. And a line costs a dime. A slaughter's a quarter. Yes, the Green God's immortal, whispers "Peace in our time." RED alert! Here come the Green Gang . . . .


Fixing on a lonely star on 4 Avengers morning, on the blood stained steps of Hope, forgotten, carrying our cross like guilty children waiting 'til our father's home. Hel'' crack our backs, he'll break our bones. His iron rod will comb the hair that stiffens on our spines. We walk defeated in a line. Our one release is in the fiery furnace . . . Take us swiftly, take us now to Hellsville (Bells peal! Roll the barrel . . . Down the pills.) But still we'll never die because we cannot pay enough. Our sweet Lord may be merciful, but he likes to play things tough. And HELL is where the action is. They came from lonely stars in search of wholesome entertainment. We're the stars. We're the stars that line the stage--the attraction of the ages. Buy a ticket, feel our pain. God, it's outrageous. It's a scream in Hellsville.

The Safeway

The right hand grips, the left hand slides. The pennies drop, the boxes glide. It never stops. She worked the line blind. Folded, pushed, . . . A pirhouette. No thought, no joy, no regrets. A cigarette was hanging from a cord and every thousand boxes she'd suck her reward and find her island. But the siren howled. The whip cracked anda pre-packed mountain pressed her neck. She'd switch to frantic, automatic. Clear the decks. Turn on, tune in--machine was humming omm. Neon. Flashing laser blade was scratching OBEY! No rest, no play. No time. She worked the line. The pay was fine. She'd find her island in July and find a rock to sit on quietly humming ommmm. The pay was fine. She worked the line. She'd find her island in July and find a rock to sit on quietly humming OBEY . . .

Just a Lifetime

Weeping like the ghost of winter, we watch our tears kiss ash and turn to steam. We walk on hot coals where a stream meandered. Tarred and tanned. We flex and count the tumours on our hands--spreading swiftly now. For this, we waited just a lifetime. Sun blessed mirror shaded mad dogs. Blow a kiss we'll all fall over. Hunting the oasis but there's only cola- sensurround. A technicolour thrill . . . it costs a fortune, so it must be real. For just a little sip, we'll keep waiting (just a lifetime.) And some of us work underground. We dug a hole and settled down. We waited for the gentle sound of steady rain to soak the ground and raattle on our ventilator. Guess the time we sat there waiting. Yes, you guessed! We waited just a lifetime. And dragons walked the earth again; parrafin was free. A fire-eater went insane and torched the final tree. And one fine say the planet crumbled, just cos someone sneezed. For this, we waited just a lifetime.

The Death of Jack the Ripper

She could smell his fear like black piss river; like knotted balls of wors rolling in the smouldering ruins of an abbatoir. Like suicide in Menstrual Lake. Like the open graves of Hell. She could smell in as she gripped the knife and held it to his neck. She could smell his fear as cries for help grew wings and trickled neatly into garbage cans. As 16 crippled hands fumbled with his zip. Twisted. Ate him slowly . . . kissed him quick. The scarlet ghosts would flinch--a glimpse of stocking! Shock the Red Night blue and clean away the mess cos Jack is dead. JACK IS DEAD!! (And nobody knew)

New Tomorrow

Silent as the final hour heralding a quake, we cut the wire . . . We slipped the guard, sprayed "LOVE" across the barricades. As searchlights swooped and froze and failed to isolate a trace of life outside the gates of New Tomorrow. The penalty for deviation's clear to those with ears and eyes. We stretch our claws behind closed doors. We always have our alibis. Outside we smile with lips zipped, eyes fixed forward. We never criticise the pure and guiding Light of new Tomorrow. But though they burned the history books, they cannot kill the ghost that cruises Blindman's boulevard and plants a rose . . . who flings his seeds of Breakdown Bridge and sees a legend grow of life beyond the throes of New Tomorrow. And we have watched the sun roll down the mountain to a frozen lake. We have heard our laughs go on forever deep inside a crystal cave. We told them as they plunged the needle, pledging our escape from the all-embracing arms of New Tomorrow. WE SHALL SEE OUR KINGDOM COME!

Princess Coldheart

@ transcribed by members of the cloud-zero mailing list -
@ corrections welcomed.

Princess Coldheart closed her eyes and waited for the kiss to snap her chain between her lips. They waited proud; they waited willing...filed in, failed, and so she killed them.

Sitting on her cutglass throne for forty years, without a phone, without a single word. 100 thousand would-be suitors, dead because they couldn't move her.

In the courtyard flowers bloomed; they draped themselves 'round tombs and rows of crosses.... Pretty flowers bloomed; they draped themselves 'round tombs and rows of crosses.

Some were daring...tried the tricks they'd learned in France. Some would touch her hand. Money signs etched in their eyes. She sensed it; one-by-one they died.

Others chanted poems...even showered her with strange expensive gifts. She wouldn't read; she owned the best. She laid their flattery to rest.

In the courtyard flowers bloomed; they draped themselves 'round tombs and rows of crosses.... Pretty flowers bloomed; they draped themselves 'round tombs and rows of crosses.

Then, one October night, the humble village fool caught sight of Coldheart, and he fell. He smashed a rock against her throne. He snatched her hand and took her home.

Happily they lived forever after. He wears her chain upon his chest. She even lets him kiss her breast.

In the courtyard flowers bloom; they drape themselves 'round tombs and rows of crosses.... In their garden flowers bloom; they pick them, decorate their room. It's touching.

It's touching, so touching. It's touching, so touching.

The Pleasure Palace

@ transcribed by

Get right down and work, work. Beat it, eat it, lick it out, and drink it down and spit it out. The Love Machine demands a sacrifice. The Love Machine demands a sacrifice. 500 pounds of meat in amyl nitrate. Nice and neat. Repeat, repeat. don't hit me with a wooden fish cos I can hear the bells ring, my burning bride.

{???} closed the door and keep her out. Forty days, forty nights, waiting for the time, waiting for the green light says, "Come in boys, I'm waiting here, I'm lonely, I need your company, I need a {???}, white flash. I'm waiting, I'm desperate. I need some energy, so I can {???} quiver, quiver, quiver. {???} in my sacrifice. {???} sacrifice. Yes, I'll be your sacrifice, but please don't hurt me with the {ribbon fist?}. {???} tie my legs together. Please don't hit me with the {fish??}, I'm {???}, I might just split from eyes to knees to feet to {???}. I'll be your sacrifice. I'll be your sacrifice. {???} I can hear your bells ring. {???} I'll be your sacrifice.(x3)

The Collector

@ transcribed by

Butterflies, three blind mice, eight little maids in a box. He met them, he kept them, he carefully puts them away for the rainy day, when nothing's left, no nothing's left to collect. {Whistling} And sometimes he'd look in his catalog, and it was like the whole wide world bundled up and waved, and he'd saved those waves, and he'd count them. He'd count them, cos he loved counting things. 3 french hens, 2 turtles doves, a monkey in a big palm tree, a bunch of green bananas that are never ripe, an orangutan who says I love you and you can pull a string and it grins and it, it's a happy little thing, but it doesn't say much, so it isn't much good company. 15,934 plastic facsimilies of the Eiffel Tower, twenty percent of which were broken because they were made in Taiwan so they weren't built to last at all, and anyway the proportions were completely wrong, because they don't have the Eiffel Tower in Taiwan. All they have is pagodas. And he had many bagodas too. He had twenty-eight bagodas, which he shrunk with water and kept them all in a big trunk which he dug out from the sea from a huge wreck of this old galleon, and he kept galleons too, many, many galleons with skeletons and lots of treasure, and he collected them. He collected all the treasure in all the world, and he owned all the banks.

Crushed Velvet Apocalypse

Peace in our time.(x6)