0:00 - The Queen Is Dead 6:26 - Frankly, Mr. Shankly 8:45 - I Know It’s Over 14:33 - Never Had No One Ever 18:10 - Cemetery Gates 20:51 - Bigmouth Strikes Again 24:07 - The Boy With The Thorn In His Side 27:26 - Vicar In A Tutu 29:48 - There Is A Light That Never Goes Out 33:52 - Some Girls Are Bigger Than Others
The Queen Is Dead: ("Oh, take me back to dear old Blighty Put me on the train for London Town Take me anywhere, drop me anywhere In Liverpool, Leeds or Birmingham, but I don't care I should like to see-") (I don't bless them) Farewell to this land's cheerless marshes Hemmed in like a boar between archers Her very lowness with her head in a sling I'm truly sorry, but it sounds like a wonderful thing I say, Charles, don't you ever crave To appear on the front of the Daily Mail Dressed in your mother's bridal veil? (Oh-oh-oh-oh, oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh) And so I checked all the registered historical facts And I was shocked into shame to discover How I'm the eighteenth pale descendent Of some old queen or other Oh, has the world changed or have I changed? Oh, has the world changed or have I changed? Some nine year old tough who peddles drugs I swear to God, I swear I never even knew what drugs were (Oh-oh-oh-oh, oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh) So I broke into the Palace With a sponge and a rusty spanner She said, "'Ey, I know you, and you cannot sing" I said, "That's nothing, you should hear me play piano" We can go for a walk where it's quiet and dry And talk about precious things But when you are tied to your mother's apron No one talks about castration (Oh-oh-oh-oh, oh-oh-oh-oh-oh) We can go for a walk where it's quiet and dry And talk about precious things Like love and law and poverty, oh-oh-oh, oh-oh-oh (These are the things that kill me) We can go for a walk where it's quiet and dry And talk about precious things But the rain that flattens my hair, oh-oh-oh (These are the things that kill me) All their lies about makeup and long hair are still there Past the pub that saps your body And the church who'll snatch your money The Queen is dead, boys And it's so lonely on a limb Pass the pub that wrecks your body And the church, all they want is your money The Queen is dead, boys And it's so lonely on a limb Life is very long when you're lonely Life is very long when you're lonely Life is very long when you're lonely Life is very long when you're lonely
Frankly, Mr. Shankly: Frankly, Mr. Shankly, this position I've held It pays my way, and it corrodes my soul I want to leave, you will not miss me I want to go down in musical history Frankly, Mr. Shankly, I'm a sickening wreck I've got the twenty-first century breathing down my neck I must move fast, you understand me I want to go down in celluloid history, Mr. Shankly Fame, fame, fatal fame It can play hideous tricks on the brain But still I'd rather be famous than righteous or holy Any day, any day, any day But sometimes I'd feel more fulfilled Making Christmas cards with the mentally ill I want to live and I want to love I want to catch something that I might be ashamed of Frankly, Mr. Shankly, this position I've held It pays my way, and it corrodes my soul Oh, I didn't realise that you wrote poetry I didn't realise you wrote such bloody awful poetry, Mr. Shankly Frankly, Mr. Shankly, since you ask You are a flatulent pain in the arse I do not mean to be so rude Still, I must speak frankly, Mr. Shankly Oh, give us your money!
I Know It’s Over: Oh, Mother, I can feel The soil falling over my head And as I climb into an empty bed Oh well, enough said I know it's over, still I cling I don't know where else I can go Over Oh, Mother, I can feel The soil falling over my head See, the sea wants to take me, the knife wants to slit me Do you think you can help me? Sad veiled bride, please be happy Handsome groom, give her room Loud, loutish lover, treat her kindly Though she needs you more than she loves you And I know it's over, still I cling I don't know where else I can go Over and over and over and over, over and over I know it's over, and it never really began But in my heart it was so real And you even spoke to me, and said "If you're so funny Then why are you on your own tonight? And if you're so clever Then why are you on your own tonight? If you're so very entertaining Then why are you on your own tonight? If you're so very good-looking Why do you sleep alone tonight? I know, 'cause tonight is just like any other night That's why you're on your own tonight With your triumphs and your charms While they're in each other's arms" It's so easy to laugh, it's so easy to hate It takes strength to be gentle and kind Over, over, over, over It's so easy to laugh, it's so easy to hate It takes guts to be gentle and kind Over, over Love is natural and real But not for you, my love Not tonight, my love Love is natural and real But not for such as you and I My love Oh, Mother, I can feel The soil falling over my head, oh Mother, I can feel The soil falling over my head, oh Mother, I can feel The soil falling over my head Mother, I can feel The soil falling over my head Oh, Mother, I can feel The soil falling over my head Oh, Mother, I can feel The soil falling over my head Oh, Mother, I can feel The soil falling over my head, oh Mother, I can feel The soil falling over my head
Never Had No One Ever: When you walk without ease On these streets where you were raised I had a really bad dream It lasted twenty years, seven months And twenty-seven days, and I know I know that I never, ever, oh, weh, woah Had no one ever Now I'm outside your house, I'm alone And I'm outside your house I hate to intrude, oh, alone, I'm alone I'm alone, I'm alone, I'm alone, I'm alone And I never, never, oh, woah, woah Had no one ever I never had no one ever I never had no, no one ever Had no one ever, never No
Cemetery Gates: A dreaded sunny day So I meet you at the cemetery gates Keats and Yeats are on your side A dreaded sunny day So I meet you at the cemetery gates Keats and Yeats are on your side While Wilde is on mine So we go inside and we gravely read the stones All those people, all those lives Where are they now? With-a loves and hates and passions just like mine They were born, and then they lived And then they died Seems so unfair, I want to cry You say, "'Ere thrice the sun done salutation to the dawn" And you claim these words as your own But I've read well and I've heard them said A hundred times, maybe less, maybe more If you must write prose and poems The words you use should be your own Don't plagiarise or take on loan 'Cause there's always someone, somewhere With a big nose, who knows And who trips you up and laughs when you fall Who'll trip you up and laugh when you fall You say, "'Ere long done do does did" Words which could only be your own And then produce the text from whence was ripped Some dizzy whore, 1804 A dreaded sunny day, so let's go where we're happy And I meet you at the cemetery gates Oh, Keats and Yeats are on your side A dreaded sunny day, so let's go where we're wanted And I meet you at the cemetery gates Keats and Yeats are on your side, but you lose 'Cause whale blubber Wilde is on m-mine (Sugar)
0:00 - The Queen Is Dead
6:26 - Frankly, Mr. Shankly
8:45 - I Know It’s Over
14:33 - Never Had No One Ever
18:10 - Cemetery Gates
20:51 - Bigmouth Strikes Again
24:07 - The Boy With The Thorn In His Side
27:26 - Vicar In A Tutu
29:48 - There Is A Light That Never Goes Out
33:52 - Some Girls Are Bigger Than Others
Um dos maiores clássicos do anos oitenta!
Thank you very much for posting this, and especially for making it an advertisement free listening experience.
❤
The Queen, My Darlings, IS NOT DEAD ~I AM Luffin eVen MORR, My Mighty Venalaroarin Insatiable One Yahzilla...
Back to the psych ward my leige
Who is this Queen you speak of?
MT
Lyrics:
The Queen Is Dead:
("Oh, take me back to dear old Blighty
Put me on the train for London Town
Take me anywhere, drop me anywhere
In Liverpool, Leeds or Birmingham, but I don't care
I should like to see-")
(I don't bless them)
Farewell to this land's cheerless marshes
Hemmed in like a boar between archers
Her very lowness with her head in a sling
I'm truly sorry, but it sounds like a wonderful thing
I say, Charles, don't you ever crave
To appear on the front of the Daily Mail
Dressed in your mother's bridal veil?
(Oh-oh-oh-oh, oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh)
And so I checked all the registered historical facts
And I was shocked into shame to discover
How I'm the eighteenth pale descendent
Of some old queen or other
Oh, has the world changed or have I changed?
Oh, has the world changed or have I changed?
Some nine year old tough who peddles drugs
I swear to God, I swear I never even knew what drugs were
(Oh-oh-oh-oh, oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh)
So I broke into the Palace
With a sponge and a rusty spanner
She said, "'Ey, I know you, and you cannot sing"
I said, "That's nothing, you should hear me play piano"
We can go for a walk where it's quiet and dry
And talk about precious things
But when you are tied to your mother's apron
No one talks about castration
(Oh-oh-oh-oh, oh-oh-oh-oh-oh)
We can go for a walk where it's quiet and dry
And talk about precious things
Like love and law and poverty, oh-oh-oh, oh-oh-oh
(These are the things that kill me)
We can go for a walk where it's quiet and dry
And talk about precious things
But the rain that flattens my hair, oh-oh-oh
(These are the things that kill me)
All their lies about makeup and long hair are still there
Past the pub that saps your body
And the church who'll snatch your money
The Queen is dead, boys
And it's so lonely on a limb
Pass the pub that wrecks your body
And the church, all they want is your money
The Queen is dead, boys
And it's so lonely on a limb
Life is very long when you're lonely
Life is very long when you're lonely
Life is very long when you're lonely
Life is very long when you're lonely
Frankly, Mr. Shankly:
Frankly, Mr. Shankly, this position I've held
It pays my way, and it corrodes my soul
I want to leave, you will not miss me
I want to go down in musical history
Frankly, Mr. Shankly, I'm a sickening wreck
I've got the twenty-first century breathing down my neck
I must move fast, you understand me
I want to go down in celluloid history, Mr. Shankly
Fame, fame, fatal fame
It can play hideous tricks on the brain
But still I'd rather be famous than righteous or holy
Any day, any day, any day
But sometimes I'd feel more fulfilled
Making Christmas cards with the mentally ill
I want to live and I want to love
I want to catch something that I might be ashamed of
Frankly, Mr. Shankly, this position I've held
It pays my way, and it corrodes my soul
Oh, I didn't realise that you wrote poetry
I didn't realise you wrote such bloody awful poetry, Mr. Shankly
Frankly, Mr. Shankly, since you ask
You are a flatulent pain in the arse
I do not mean to be so rude
Still, I must speak frankly, Mr. Shankly
Oh, give us your money!
I Know It’s Over:
Oh, Mother, I can feel
The soil falling over my head
And as I climb into an empty bed
Oh well, enough said
I know it's over, still I cling
I don't know where else I can go
Over
Oh, Mother, I can feel
The soil falling over my head
See, the sea wants to take me, the knife wants to slit me
Do you think you can help me?
Sad veiled bride, please be happy
Handsome groom, give her room
Loud, loutish lover, treat her kindly
Though she needs you more than she loves you
And I know it's over, still I cling
I don't know where else I can go
Over and over and over and over, over and over
I know it's over, and it never really began
But in my heart it was so real
And you even spoke to me, and said
"If you're so funny
Then why are you on your own tonight?
And if you're so clever
Then why are you on your own tonight?
If you're so very entertaining
Then why are you on your own tonight?
If you're so very good-looking
Why do you sleep alone tonight?
I know, 'cause tonight is just like any other night
That's why you're on your own tonight
With your triumphs and your charms
While they're in each other's arms"
It's so easy to laugh, it's so easy to hate
It takes strength to be gentle and kind
Over, over, over, over
It's so easy to laugh, it's so easy to hate
It takes guts to be gentle and kind
Over, over
Love is natural and real
But not for you, my love
Not tonight, my love
Love is natural and real
But not for such as you and I
My love
Oh, Mother, I can feel
The soil falling over my head, oh
Mother, I can feel
The soil falling over my head, oh
Mother, I can feel
The soil falling over my head
Mother, I can feel
The soil falling over my head
Oh, Mother, I can feel
The soil falling over my head
Oh, Mother, I can feel
The soil falling over my head
Oh, Mother, I can feel
The soil falling over my head, oh
Mother, I can feel
The soil falling over my head
Never Had No One Ever:
When you walk without ease
On these streets where you were raised
I had a really bad dream
It lasted twenty years, seven months
And twenty-seven days, and I know
I know that I never, ever, oh, weh, woah
Had no one ever
Now I'm outside your house, I'm alone
And I'm outside your house
I hate to intrude, oh, alone, I'm alone
I'm alone, I'm alone, I'm alone, I'm alone
And I never, never, oh, woah, woah
Had no one ever
I never had no one ever
I never had no, no one ever
Had no one ever, never
No
Cemetery Gates:
A dreaded sunny day
So I meet you at the cemetery gates
Keats and Yeats are on your side
A dreaded sunny day
So I meet you at the cemetery gates
Keats and Yeats are on your side
While Wilde is on mine
So we go inside and we gravely read the stones
All those people, all those lives
Where are they now?
With-a loves and hates and passions just like mine
They were born, and then they lived
And then they died
Seems so unfair, I want to cry
You say, "'Ere thrice the sun done salutation to the dawn"
And you claim these words as your own
But I've read well and I've heard them said
A hundred times, maybe less, maybe more
If you must write prose and poems
The words you use should be your own
Don't plagiarise or take on loan
'Cause there's always someone, somewhere
With a big nose, who knows
And who trips you up and laughs when you fall
Who'll trip you up and laugh when you fall
You say, "'Ere long done do does did"
Words which could only be your own
And then produce the text from whence was ripped
Some dizzy whore, 1804
A dreaded sunny day, so let's go where we're happy
And I meet you at the cemetery gates
Oh, Keats and Yeats are on your side
A dreaded sunny day, so let's go where we're wanted
And I meet you at the cemetery gates
Keats and Yeats are on your side, but you lose
'Cause whale blubber Wilde is on m-mine
(Sugar)
Great record