| This is a very heavy microphone stand
|
| Ah, no queen could brandish this I tell ya that
|
| It’s a real man’s microphone stand
|
| Here, Dave, here
|
| Where’d you get these stands from?
|
| (Laughs)
|
| Ah, they’re really heavy
|
| So are you
|
| Well, we’re gonna do something really heavy in a minute
|
| Like, er
|
| Fall off the stage on top of you
|
| With about two hundredweight of iron in my hand
|
| You’re a very tiny person, aren’t you?
|
| Eh? |
| (Laughs)
|
| You’re all very tiny down there
|
| Y’know when I’m up here
|
| I feel so big and mighty
|
| I fell like I’m the
|
| Master
|
| Of the
|
| Universe
|
| You made me feel like that
|
| And now, it’s almost true
|
| And just wait and see
|
| What we do with it
|
| All right, cut the Gypsy music!
|
| Band of Gypsies!
|
| (Music changes)
|
| All in a day’s work
|
| All in, all in
|
| All in a day’s work
|
| All in, all in
|
| All in a day’s work
|
| I know
|
| I would rather the fire-storms of atmospheres
|
| Than this cruel descent from a thousand years of dream
|
| Into the starkness of this capsule
|
| Where two of our crew still lie
|
| Suspended cool
|
| In their tombs of sleep
|
| The nagging choirs of memory
|
| The tubes and wires worming from their flesh
|
| To machinery
|
| I would have to cut
|
| Such midwifery is but one function
|
| Of the leader here
|
| Floating in a sac of fluid
|
| Dark
|
| A clear century of space away from Earth
|
| One man stirs from the trauma of his birth
|
| Attending to the hypno-tapes
|
| Assuring him
|
| This was reality
|
| However grim
|
| Oh, our journey’s end
|
| The landing itself was nothing
|
| We touched upon a shelf of rock
|
| Selected by the auto-mind
|
| And left the galaxy of dreams
|
| Behind
|
| And it’s all a fable for fountains now
|
| It’s all a fable for fountains now!
|
| It’s all a fable for fountains now!
|
| And were your childhood dreams
|
| All a fable?
|
| For fountains now
|
| For fountains now
|
| Now, now
|
| Now, now, now
|
| Fountains, fountains
|
| All going up in fountains, fountains
|
| All a fable for fountains now
|
| Go on
|
| There’s no other
|
| But just a minute now
|
| When you gaze into my eyes
|
| You’re looking at your own reflection
|
| And all you see is your disguise
|
| You wear for your own protection
|
| So don’t go telling me that you know just when to stop!
|
| When to stop
|
| You know you go
|
| Over the top
|
| Over the top
|
| It’s over the top
|
| Hey I’m going, over the top
|
| Over the top, oh!
|
| Over the top, all right here it goes…
|
| In 1916
|
| We dug the trenches
|
| But we don’t need them
|
| We have our own defences
|
| We don’t need no officers
|
| To blow no whistle and scream
|
| Come on you guys
|
| Wake up out of your dream
|
| And follow me
|
| 'cause I’m going
|
| Over the top
|
| Over the top
|
| Follow me
|
| Over the top
|
| Here goes now…
|
| Your country needs you
|
| Hey Kitchener, don’t you know that moustaches went out with the Beatles?
|
| Give me white feather!
|
| Give me white feather!
|
| Give me white feather!
|
| Hung up on the wire
|
| Give me white feather!
|
| Give me white feather!
|
| Give me white feather!
|
| Hung upon the wire
|
| Hung upon the wire
|
| Strung on barbed wire
|
| Huh, strung on barbed wire
|
| Goodbye genocide… |