Almost Medieval
There's something in your soul that makes me feel so old
In fact I think I've died about six hundred times
There's less of me now and more of me then
I'm moving back to the age of men
Jump off the tarmac there's no stagecoach speed limit
Outside the office hangs the man on the gibbet
Soft lenses, grow to glasses
Small world, dimly seen through cataracts
Your program, newspaper
So they say
Rumour spread by word of mouth, jump onto the escalator
Press the button on the lift, raise the dust on old stair carpets
Endless treads like waves of regret
Now it seems I'm going madder
Falling off this rotting ladder
Soft lenses, grow to glasses
Small world, dimly seen through cataracts
Jump onto the escalator
Press the button on the lift
Raise the dust on old stair carpets
Endless treads like waves of regret
Now it seems I'm going madder
Falling off this rotting ladder
Your program, newspaper
So they say
Rumour spread by word of mouth
Jump onto the escalator
Press the button on the lift
Raise the dust on old stair carpets
Endless treads like waves of regret
Now it seems I'm going madder
Falling through this rotting ladder
There's something in your soul that makes me feel so old
In fact I think I've died about six hundred times
There's less of me now and more of me then
I'm moving back to the age of men
Jump off the tarmac there's no stagecoach speed limit
Outside the office hangs the man on the gibbet
Jump off the tarmac there's no stagecoach speed limit
Outside the office swings the man on the gibbet
In fact I think I've died about six hundred times
There's less of me now and more of me then
I'm moving back to the age of men
Jump off the tarmac there's no stagecoach speed limit
Outside the office hangs the man on the gibbet
Soft lenses, grow to glasses
Small world, dimly seen through cataracts
Your program, newspaper
So they say
Rumour spread by word of mouth, jump onto the escalator
Press the button on the lift, raise the dust on old stair carpets
Endless treads like waves of regret
Now it seems I'm going madder
Falling off this rotting ladder
Soft lenses, grow to glasses
Small world, dimly seen through cataracts
Jump onto the escalator
Press the button on the lift
Raise the dust on old stair carpets
Endless treads like waves of regret
Now it seems I'm going madder
Falling off this rotting ladder
Your program, newspaper
So they say
Rumour spread by word of mouth
Jump onto the escalator
Press the button on the lift
Raise the dust on old stair carpets
Endless treads like waves of regret
Now it seems I'm going madder
Falling through this rotting ladder
There's something in your soul that makes me feel so old
In fact I think I've died about six hundred times
There's less of me now and more of me then
I'm moving back to the age of men
Jump off the tarmac there's no stagecoach speed limit
Outside the office hangs the man on the gibbet
Jump off the tarmac there's no stagecoach speed limit
Outside the office swings the man on the gibbet
Credits
Writer(s): Ian Craig Marsh, Martyn Ware, Philip Oakey
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
Link
© 2024 All rights reserved. Rockol.com S.r.l. Website image policy
Rockol
- Rockol only uses images and photos made available for promotional purposes (“for press use”) by record companies, artist managements and p.r. agencies.
- Said images are used to exert a right to report and a finality of the criticism, in a degraded mode compliant to copyright laws, and exclusively inclosed in our own informative content.
- Only non-exclusive images addressed to newspaper use and, in general, copyright-free are accepted.
- Live photos are published when licensed by photographers whose copyright is quoted.
- Rockol is available to pay the right holder a fair fee should a published image’s author be unknown at the time of publishing.
Feedback
Please immediately report the presence of images possibly not compliant with the above cases so as to quickly verify an improper use: where confirmed, we would immediately proceed to their removal.