C'n'C-S Mithering

(альбом: Grotesque (After The Gramme) - 1980)

Three days
Three months
Three days
Three months
A treatise
A treatise
To explain these
First was cash 'n' carry house dance
In Lancashire they're A
In King Nat Ltd. empire
Kwik Save is there
The scene started here
Then was America

Then was America
We went there
Big A&M Herb was there
His offices had fresh air
But his rota was mediocre
US purge, rock 'n' pop filth
Their material's filched
And the secret of their lives
Is...

All the English groups
Act like peasants with free milk
On a route
On a route to the loot
To candy mountain
Five wacky English proletariat idiots
Californians always think of sex
Or think of death
Five hundred girl deaths
A Mexico revenge, it's stolen land
They really get it off on
"Don't hurt me, please"
Rapist fill the TVs
And the secret of their lives
Is S.E.X...

I have dreams, I can see
Carloads of negro Nazis
Like Faust with beards
Hydrochloric shaved weirds
[Applause from audience at Cyprus Tavern]

This was going to be called crap rap fourteen
But it's now Stop Mithering
The things that drain you off and drive you off the hinge
Boils, dirty socks, the ceilings collapse
The Sunday morning loud lawn mower
The upstairs Jewish girl damn hoovering, with valium cig withdrawal
She wants communal, fluent flat household
I want privacy
The bastard dentist doctors surgery
Clip, clop, ring, knock, ring
Stop mithering

The estates stick up like stacks
The estates stick up like stacks
The residents keep wild dogs
And on that father's bedroom closet top
Electric blanket boxes
Surplus jonnies, demob pictures
To their children they sing
Stop mithering

You think you've got it bad with thin ties
Miserable songs synthesized, or circles with A in the middle
Ake joke records, hang out with Gary Bushell
Join round table. "I like your single yer great!"
A circle of low IQ's
There are three rules of audience
My journalist acquaintances, go soft, go places
On record company expenses
I lose humor, manners become barbed, righteous, don't know it
The smart hedonists, same as last verse, allusions with
H in electronics, on stage false histrionics
Corpse mauling dicks, pose to a good film, him, him
Stop mithering
I'm not joining conventional rock band
The conventional is experimental, the conventional is now
Experimental
And is no way noble, and I'm no chock stock thing
So stop mithering

Engineers save up for cars
I try to let down their tyres with matches to make them molten
Ouch! Ouch!
They say I rip off Johnny Rotten
They always strike for more pay
They say "See yer mate... yeh... see yer mate..."
To their mothers they sing
Stop mithering

Even the drowned penile tissue test
He hangs out for sex
He enters magazine contest
White tan horror in the mirror
Spotty exterior hides a spotty interior
He's not your enemy
He's not your enemy, his name is not Harry
The secret of Cash and Carry