Альбом Wild Beasts

When we turn up in our turn up’s,
our hearts are heavy,
our heads are ready to levy.
For the yippee-less swing,
for the tot-less cot,
for the mock,
for the shock,
for the fun powder plot.

With courage and conviction,
in donkey-jaw diction,
we cry for the cause
because the courts have left us lonely;
disowned us daddies like the poopers of the party.

Gently, gently take them from me…
gently, gently take them from me…
ently, gently take them from me,
and I’ll be left dumfound as a donkey.

This is a booty call;
my boot up your arse hole.
This is a Freudian slip;
my slipper in your bits.

Carry me hooting and howling to the river
to wash of my hands of the hot blood,
the sweat and the sand.

Any rival who goes for our girls
will be left thumb sucking in terror
and bereft of all coffin bearers.

A crude art, a bovver boot ballet-
equally elegant and ugly.
I was as thrilled as I was appalled,
courting him in fisticuffing waltz.
Now I’m not saying the lads always deserve a braying.
And I’m not saying the girls are worth the fines I’m paying.

We’re just brutes bored in our bovver boots. We’re just brutes clowning ‘round in cahoots. We’re just brutes looking for shops to loot. We’re just brutes hoping to have a hoot…
Hooting, hooting and howling.

Watch me! watch me!

the belle of the ball
my heart, my hand and everything I own
and we are the boys
with new shiny shoes
we’ve seen ‘em all
and we’ve chosen you
now no one will find your limit
girls from Roedean
girls from Shipley
girls from Hounslow
girls from Whitby
you’re a candied queen
and let me show my darling what that means

watch me! watch me!
hatch me! hatch me!

a girl before
bouncing round behind the bedroom doors
and we are the boys
who’ll drape you in jewels
cut off your hair
and throw out your shoes
cause baby, you won’t need them, where you’ll be
girls astride me
girls beneath me
girls before me
girls between me
you’re birthing machines
and let me show my darling what that means

hatch me! hatch me!

and baby, turns out I’m evil
in all my dreams, girls who’ll clothe me
girls who’ll feed me
girls who want me
girls who need me
all you pretty things waiting for somebody
number my babies and my broken body

...When I'm sleepy, needing supper, you're the lips for me to pucker. When I'm sleepy, needing supper, you're the lips.

Kick!
The spirit kicks, but the moonshine plays cheap tricks.
Us kids are cold and cagey rattling around the town,
scaring the oldies into their dressing gowns, as the dribbling dogs howl.
What'so wrong with just a little fun?
We still got the taste dancin' on our tongues.
When we pucker up our lips are bee-stung.
We still got the taste dancin' on our tongues.
We got gusto, we are headstrong.
We still got the taste dancin' on our tongues.
Fill our bellies and we fill our lungs.
We still got the taste dancin' on our tongues.
Darling the spirit is kicking, don't be fooled by the moonshine, it's tricking.
Frock spill like alcho-pop around girls' knees.
Trousers and blouses make excellent sheets, down dimly lit streets.
Why should we feel bad for what we've done?
We still got the taste dancin' on our tongues.
Love the smash and grab of our goings on.
We still got the taste dancin' on our tongues.

I feel as if I've been where you have been
the snow had piled up knee-high in the street
apart, apart
and dancing on
the wanderer
the squanderer
our son was dying and we could hardly eat
they dragged me by the ankles through the street
(two hearts)
they passed me round them like a piece of meat
his hairy hands
his falling fists
his dancing cock
down by his knees
I've seen my children turn away from me
O, do you want my bones between your teeth?
they pulled me half-alive out of the sea
apart, apart
and dancing on
impossible
impossible
I feel as if I've been where you have been
I feel as if I've been where you have been

O, do you want my heart between your teeth?
your hands are curling up like floating leaves
you who shall deserve
you who shall deserve
O, unpluckable flower of the moon!
O, untetherable bird of the blue!
you who shall deserve
you who shall deserve
deserters!
deserters!
deserters!
deserters!
the neighbours cup their ears to the walls
two hearts
no more

By smirking prank of fate, we find ourselves dancing late, like young reprobates.
By the milky light of the mighty moon, find someone to nuzzle to, and waltz from the room.
We're all quiffed and cropped, this is our lot, we hold each other up heavy with hops.
By smirking prank of fate we wiggle and kick like bobbing bate, and wait for a bite.
By the milky light of the mighty moon, find someone to nuzzle to, and waltz from the room.
We're all quiffed and cropped, this is our lot, we hold each other up heavy with hops.
My darling, my dumpling, my plump hearts a' thumping- begging you to come to me.
I couldn't be more ready,
I COULDN'T BE MORE READY.
A glottal stop.
Bottled up.
Waiting for the penny drop.

How the prayer rubs the rosary.
How the make up make her face pretty.
Oh how we have an underbelly, bitten by brutality.
How there's guts fried up.
How lothario leers at slut.
Oh how we have an underbelly, bitten by brutality.
And how in our first and last years we are the most needy, least greedy, most grateful, least hateful.
How die as deeply doe-eyed as we start.

Did I judge this wrong?
but you had it all
you had it all
a gift of the gods
in your city of gold
and you'll piss it all
you had it all
and what drags the rope
you know, or, you don't
you had it all
gonegonegonegone
goinggoinggone
the day you moved off
the whole village mourned
love's no kind of joke
or something small
and where will you go?
there's things you don't know
fingers tearing your clothes
baby ungrown
you had it all
gonegonegonegone
goinggoinggone
and suffering alone
your bowl emptied out
all your secrets known
I welcome your call
these walls don't fall.

Through the iron gate, and he's gone.
See the goslings, the ducklings, the piglets, the lambs he lets out a little sob.
Sometimes he'd still wish that he slept in a cot by his Mum and Dad's bed.
He cry NO. "I'm left here, and I'm here on my own."
Hear the leaves soft lift hush, make him blush.
Pair of welly boots, the crows in cahoots, the eggs on the hob, the corns on their cobs, he let out little sob.
Sometimes he'd still wish that he left, shot through like a bolt into mad heifer's head.
He cry NO. "I'm left here, and I'm here on my own."
Sometimes he'd still wish that he left, shot through like a bull. But NO.