Stills
In the end there was nothing to speak of,
Gravity was crushing both heart and mind,
Tales of the future just couldn't last
Silver suits flashing their metal cast,
It's all so casperian, friendly but evil,
Everybody's frightened, they just don't understand
The meaning of all these shaking hands
Innuendo, power of your mind.
Still people can be caused to stir
But not b y themselves,
No, not by themselves -
Stills!
Printing black on white
Stills!
Freezing formless minds
Stills!
Spending time in voids
Stills!
Not making any noise.
The days are passing, the nights they're all gone
Life is everlasting dear John,
Next stop paradise, on station number nine
Smoking their cigarettes, and drinking their wine
They all sleep so peaceful in their suburban ties
They all work during the day using telephone lines
And the population is on the increase in its very own way.
Mum, dad and the children they go driving
I know you've seen them every Sunday morning there
They do the same tour they have done for nearly two thousand years
The lide to my life is off -
There's sanskrit, prose, italic and print
The words appeared upon the wall
A message laid both bold and yet so small.
Gravity was crushing both heart and mind,
Tales of the future just couldn't last
Silver suits flashing their metal cast,
It's all so casperian, friendly but evil,
Everybody's frightened, they just don't understand
The meaning of all these shaking hands
Innuendo, power of your mind.
Still people can be caused to stir
But not b y themselves,
No, not by themselves -
Stills!
Printing black on white
Stills!
Freezing formless minds
Stills!
Spending time in voids
Stills!
Not making any noise.
The days are passing, the nights they're all gone
Life is everlasting dear John,
Next stop paradise, on station number nine
Smoking their cigarettes, and drinking their wine
They all sleep so peaceful in their suburban ties
They all work during the day using telephone lines
And the population is on the increase in its very own way.
Mum, dad and the children they go driving
I know you've seen them every Sunday morning there
They do the same tour they have done for nearly two thousand years
The lide to my life is off -
There's sanskrit, prose, italic and print
The words appeared upon the wall
A message laid both bold and yet so small.
Credits
Writer(s): Murray William Burns, Barry Bruce Stanton
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
Link
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