David Keenan - Hopeful Dystopia lyrics
[David Keenan - Hopeful Dystopia lyrics]
Where is your Valerie from the gallery?
Where is your Francis, Neil, and Joan?
They're in horrors
Shot to pieces on the bed
Like a pile of clothes
I have been emptied of
Tradition in hopeful dystopia
Heard you had then set out alone for
The tomb of the unknown gurrier
With ten pages neatly pressed and piled
On which you wrote ten fantastical lies
Made a shrine which you inscribed
In truth, I'd rather him than I
Blow out your candle
It's four in the afternoon
Blow out your candle
It's four in the afternoon
And the world, it should be ending very soon
My blue-eyed boy
Where is your Valerie from the gallery?
Where is the sunken Lusitania
You'll forever row?
Back to the hovel, down the rabbit hole
Further down this time with
Your fork tailed coat
And trusted guide by your side
Heavy air in here
It could be lit like fossil fuel
And though the light swings from it's neck
I could never ever think any less of you
When was your last decent deed?
You are the hollow tune that is whistled
From a mouthpiece in a hollow room
Blow out your candle
It's four in the afternoon and the
World will soon be ending
Blow out the candle
It's four in the afternoon and the world as
You once knew it will be ending soon
My black-eyed boy
The early days of courtship are the best
I miss being on buses late at night with you
We are scum, unadulterated scum
Though the butterfly phase has begun
We are scum, unadulterated scum
Though the butterfly phase has
Begun with immediate effect
Don't let your coffee go cold
Where is your Valerie from the gallery?
Where is the fake Francis Bacon
Triptych you said you owned?
Where is your Francis, Neil, and Joan?
They're in horrors
Shot to pieces on the bed
Like a pile of clothes
I have been emptied of
Tradition in hopeful dystopia
Heard you had then set out alone for
The tomb of the unknown gurrier
With ten pages neatly pressed and piled
On which you wrote ten fantastical lies
Made a shrine which you inscribed
In truth, I'd rather him than I
Blow out your candle
It's four in the afternoon
Blow out your candle
It's four in the afternoon
And the world, it should be ending very soon
My blue-eyed boy
Where is your Valerie from the gallery?
Where is the sunken Lusitania
You'll forever row?
Back to the hovel, down the rabbit hole
Further down this time with
Your fork tailed coat
And trusted guide by your side
Heavy air in here
It could be lit like fossil fuel
And though the light swings from it's neck
I could never ever think any less of you
When was your last decent deed?
You are the hollow tune that is whistled
From a mouthpiece in a hollow room
Blow out your candle
It's four in the afternoon and the
World will soon be ending
Blow out the candle
It's four in the afternoon and the world as
You once knew it will be ending soon
My black-eyed boy
The early days of courtship are the best
I miss being on buses late at night with you
We are scum, unadulterated scum
Though the butterfly phase has begun
We are scum, unadulterated scum
Though the butterfly phase has
Begun with immediate effect
Don't let your coffee go cold
Where is your Valerie from the gallery?
Where is the fake Francis Bacon
Triptych you said you owned?