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Twelfth Night Collectors Item The Collector 19:01 Kingdom come come kingdom go That you may carve upon my grave stone When confined in a six walled box I will no longer hear the clocks Indifferenty ticking in cold deserted mansion halls Kingdom come come kingdom go Mementos relics crated cargo A million things all left behind Relationships with humankind Conducted as if I was buying slaves at auction Holding court at gross parties Where punch drunk sycophants came slobbering To suck my cocktails ... I escaped upstairs to my collection Titians tits and grand Goyas Glower through the high stone traceries Oily smears bequeathed by thirsty souls Studied throughout my long daze Scumbled paint in priceless fossils Many a sad sullen pieta - Christ eternal held away from me Behind a brown and ancient glaze In my collection Facets of ego Gradually eclipsing mass between the nursery and now Struggling for meaning Walking earth insensible Flowerings of childhood turned to stringy vegetable Troubled at night by flashbacks flashbacks flashbacks ... Waaa Waaa Mummy I don't want to go potty Training: I don't want to share my toys with the other children They're horrid I ... Child that I was then when was I last young? When did comic wood bricks become trading in con-tricks? When did innocence shudder and die? Adolescent I planned to take total command Draped vision's guilt edge on the bars of my play-pen Hoped to arrest the swift passage of time As though by some chance I could recreate Eden Apple pie? Lovely! My hopes became a statue my mouth became a gun In the hit parade of self interest I remained at number one I was Mozart's old piano with a special gold inlay I was always a lover of music but I never did learn to play I thought I'd be saved by my collection to begin with I thought I'd be saved by my collection Would you believe it? I did; but then ... Nanny - Nanny Conscience? Is that you standing at the end of my bed there Nanny? My word, it's a long time since you've been round here Out in the open - you're looking dreadful I mean, so pale and interior; Look at your skin ... My god, the wrinkles!!!! Nanny-nan-nanny; had her made into a table lamp for me Because I needed light to shine But artificially From her prim portals ... Oooooooo! Nanny-nan-nanny Don't you think it's about time you started being nice to me Nanny? One day soon I'm going to grow up big and strong And my ego will build me a temple And nobody in there will make me Wash behind my ears or eat my greens or Share my toys with the other children who are just horrid anyway Not me I drank myself as dry as a desert Still in the end there was nothing left to call my own This freedom from pain with which I toyed Became a gateway to a void The only values left were relative to power The trouble with life in ivory towers The seconds stretch until they fit the skins of hours The faithless mates who come and go They run away like melted snow A temple to ego never constitutes a home And though it seems sad This jangling junk we are amassed A passing pageant passing fast There must be something Something that can last more than the sense of life as just A short and pointless overture To death Fear debilitating fear and death turn round in circles Turn! Kingdom come come kingdom go Collecting clouds before the Son light On pain of death our presents pass Secreting habit over insight Human soul is fertilised Human span it's wombing season Ward of conscience fragile child Aborted by unfettered reason - that candle Both ends burning Collecting trash collecting gold Vampires ego drains and clutches When cross examined by the truth It carves the cross up into crutches Sharpened at both ends Some friend ... Freedom's Ling is donkey borne A cross The bleeding palms on main-street Collecting nothing but the scorn Of those who cannot bear their eyes to meet Except in artificial light Who needs to star in such a cast? I leave collecting to the past To one last party I asked them all and One And when it was over I found that all but One haad gone Did Jesus have a grave stone upon which to carve His name? When He came collecting the grave gave up it's game Now no-one collects worthwhile living For it is a crop that grows from His seed of giving Diaries Drugs A glittering crystal ball Cathedrals Palaces Sweet sugar you can keep them all Heaven is not for sale ... BASS : CLIVE MITTEN DRUMS, PERCUSSION AND PROGRAMMING : BRIAN DEVOIL GUITARS : ANDY REVELL AND CLIVE MITTEN KEYBOARDS : RICK BATTERSBY AND CLIVE MITTEN VOCALS, SQUEAKY TOYS AND ASSORTED NOISES : GEOFF MANN WRITTEN BY : ANDY, BRIAN, CLIVE, RICK AND GEOFF ORIGINALLY RELEASED ON : PREVIOUSLY UNRELEASED |
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