The air was thick with scented smoke; the talk was much to small.
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The words would fall and crawl in corners, wind up eaten by the cat,
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but still they spat and groped each other's fat.
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Danced with rubber arms and granite feet. The planet creeped.
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The ceiling flaked and floated in the beer.
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We stayed clear. We stayed here, under glass.
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And you I know you're trying though you haven't got a clue.
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See them laughing in the showers. Twist and grab a shouting Jew...
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Did they ride you through the corridors, make you climb the wall?
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Did you fall? Did she cry? Did you look for other fools to fry?
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To fortify your island under glass.
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I know how and where you work; it's written around your collar,
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sweat and dirt and sloping shoulders. You keep tripping on your hands,
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yellow hands, tired hands, pushing pens and pushing sixty,
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waiting for the man to push you off your shelf.
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Send you rollercoasting frozen to your hole under glass.
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And you may be tough and loud; you throw your weight around.
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But you're jelly when the lights go out - you're hearing every sound.
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The wailing chambers, whispering walls, the bitching neighbours'
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spirits call, accuse you with their fire eyes that freeze.
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You fry, you slip their nails inside you.
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You try and try to hide out under glass.
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-----------------
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Under Glass
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The Legendary Pink Dots |