| Lyrics: | (Hammill)
The captain's in a coma, the lieutenant's on a drunk;
the owner's in his
cabin with his special friend, the monk;
the midget's on the bridge, dispensing platitudes and
junk -
those wild and special places,
those strange and dangerous places,
those sad,
sweet faces,
it's a Ship of Fools.
The nurse in black seamed stockings, she's already on
patrol
for fake fur starlets panicked by the watering-hole;
everybody's waiting for the
drama to unfold
in those cold and treasured places,
those old and degenerate
places;
those posed, posed, empty faces
it's a Ship of Fools.
Run, rabbit, run,
you're the only one that can do it;
turn, baby, turn, there's a ring of fire
and you've got
to go through it.
Fun, baby, fun, when the sands have run to the limit
turn, baby, turn,
there's a ring of fire and you're in it.
Looking for logic and adventure
down the dark
end of the street,
open city, open season, open lips that gleam so sweet
offer kisses like
piranhas
to the soft flesh of your feet,
and any man's poison is every man's meat
in
those mad and special places,
those sad and desperate places,
those sad, sweet soul
embraces,
it's a Ship of Fools
Those strange and special places
those wild and dangerous
places,
those dead, dead, dead faces...
It's a Ship of Fools; no rules. |
