الأغاني: Barry Adamson. Here In The Hole.
You see, that's the way the world is
Not a lot you can do about it
Except to accept
There was a time that I thought about it
Plenty of times I thought about it
Then decided not to
Here in the hole
I'm surrounded by fools
Degenerates and phoneys
I suffer a constant bombardment of nonsense from all sides
When central control render me surplus to requirements
My imprint is relocated to the ruins of Paris
Where I regenerate
My new face accepting me immediately without the usual problems
I operate a program of self denial
Yet languish in polymorphic perversity as is my want
Each day, even although I believe I'm free
Something pulls me back into a past made real only by their understanding
And all the while the calls keep coming in
And still I am hunted for my flesh
I'm hounded for my beauty
In a world turned on it's head
I steady myself
Ready to enter
They believe I know everything because my masters memory serves me while
Infact I know nothing
And so they will find me
And in the middle of a cold afternoon they will ask
What is it, exactly, you know
And then
They will take me outside
And they will kill me
That much I do know
Not a lot you can do about it
Except to accept
There was a time that I thought about it
Plenty of times I thought about it
Then decided not to
Here in the hole
I'm surrounded by fools
Degenerates and phoneys
I suffer a constant bombardment of nonsense from all sides
When central control render me surplus to requirements
My imprint is relocated to the ruins of Paris
Where I regenerate
My new face accepting me immediately without the usual problems
I operate a program of self denial
Yet languish in polymorphic perversity as is my want
Each day, even although I believe I'm free
Something pulls me back into a past made real only by their understanding
And all the while the calls keep coming in
And still I am hunted for my flesh
I'm hounded for my beauty
In a world turned on it's head
I steady myself
Ready to enter
They believe I know everything because my masters memory serves me while
Infact I know nothing
And so they will find me
And in the middle of a cold afternoon they will ask
What is it, exactly, you know
And then
They will take me outside
And they will kill me
That much I do know
Barry Adamson
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