Текст и слова песни Legendary Pink Dots – Empathy With The Devil
My flavour is the stuff of locusts. Hot chili firebrand spurting volcano
Teeth. Bleeding skies, sulphur mines... The foul breath of Satan's
Favourite gutter worm. You feel me when I'm close - an ice wind of steel
Stilettos hammered in your spine. Quicksilver nausea spinning, spewing
Forth and everything's a mess. Every possession you ever had - wrecked -
Lying at your feet. Telegrams that tell you God is dead piled high on the
T.V. The incessant T.V. Burbling. Distorted. A cheesecake nun advertising
20 brands of sea cow lemon shit in 60 different languages. A gargoyle
Handjives for the hard of hearing. Subliminals. Criminals. Phoney
Businessmen in thick-rimmed glasses. Bad comedians. Laughing bags aping
The Hallelujah Chorus - the forgotten version - out of key (slightly).
Just enough to annoy you. My flavour is cheap purfume on rotting
Man-Ray maggots! Dead maggots. My flavour's a wound re-opening by
Surprise, green fishes eyes flowing out. Wriggling things. Gelatinous.
Still alive and screaming - out of key (slightly) just enough to annoy
You. My flavour's a plunging elevator a mili-second before it hits the
Cellar. A cellar with mutated rats, old - very old lost teeth. Abortions,
Garbage. So pungent it hums, out of key (slightly) just enough to annoy
You. My flavour's your flavour. Deep within you. Hidden. Waiting to get
Out...
Teeth. Bleeding skies, sulphur mines... The foul breath of Satan's
Favourite gutter worm. You feel me when I'm close - an ice wind of steel
Stilettos hammered in your spine. Quicksilver nausea spinning, spewing
Forth and everything's a mess. Every possession you ever had - wrecked -
Lying at your feet. Telegrams that tell you God is dead piled high on the
T.V. The incessant T.V. Burbling. Distorted. A cheesecake nun advertising
20 brands of sea cow lemon shit in 60 different languages. A gargoyle
Handjives for the hard of hearing. Subliminals. Criminals. Phoney
Businessmen in thick-rimmed glasses. Bad comedians. Laughing bags aping
The Hallelujah Chorus - the forgotten version - out of key (slightly).
Just enough to annoy you. My flavour is cheap purfume on rotting
Man-Ray maggots! Dead maggots. My flavour's a wound re-opening by
Surprise, green fishes eyes flowing out. Wriggling things. Gelatinous.
Still alive and screaming - out of key (slightly) just enough to annoy
You. My flavour's a plunging elevator a mili-second before it hits the
Cellar. A cellar with mutated rats, old - very old lost teeth. Abortions,
Garbage. So pungent it hums, out of key (slightly) just enough to annoy
You. My flavour's your flavour. Deep within you. Hidden. Waiting to get
Out...
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