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SeaLion
(专辑: Warchild - 1974)
Over the
mountains, and under the
sky riding dirty gray horses, go you and I. Mating with chance, copulating with mirth the
sad-glad paymasters (for what it's worth). The
ice-cream castles are refrigerated; the
super-marketeers are on parade. There's a
golden handshake hanging round your neck, as you light your cigarette on the
burning deck. And you balance your world on the
tip of your nose like a
SeaLion with a
ball, at the
carnival. You wear a
shiny skin and a
funny hat the
Almighty Animal Trainer lets it go at that. You bark ever-so-slightly at the
Trainer's gun, with you whiskers melting in the
noon-day sun. You flip and you flop under the
Big White Top where the
long-legged ring-mistress starts and stops. But you know, after all, the
act is wearing thin as the
crowd grows uneasy and the
boos begin. But you balance your world on the
tip of your nose you're a
SeaLion with a
ball at the
carnival. Just a
trace of pride upon our fixed grins for there is no business like the
show we're in. There is no reason, no rhyme, no right to leave the
circus `til we've said good-night. The
same performance, in the
same old way; it's the
same old story to this Passion Play. So we'll shoot the
moon, and hope to call the
tune and make no pin cushion of this big balloon. Look how we balance the
world on the
tips of our noses, like SeaLions with a
ball at the
carnival.
完毕