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Manic Street Preachers
Manic Street Preachers


Информация
Откуда Blackwood, Caerphilly, Wales, United Kingdom
Жанры Alternative Rock
Britpop
Punk Rock
Годы 1986—н.в.
Лейблы Columbia Records
Сайт Website
Состав
James Dean Bradfield
Nicky Wire
Sean Moore
Бывшие участники
Richey Edwards



Альбом Manic Street Preachers


The Holy Bible (29.08.1994)
29.08.1994
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. . .


(Words: Nicky Wire/Richey James; Music: James Dean Bradfield/Sean Moore)

You can buy her, you can buy her
This one's here, this one's here, this one's here and this one's here
Ev'rything's for sale

For sale? dumb cunt's same dumb questions
Oh virgins? listen, all virgins are liars honey
And I don't know what I'm scared of or what I even enjoy
Dulling, get money, but nothing turns out like you want it to

And in these plagued streets of pity you can buy anything
For $200 anyone can conceive a God on video
He's a boy, you want a girl so tear off his cock
Tie his hair in bunches, fuck him, call him Rita if you want

I eat and I dress and I wash and I still can say thank you
Puking - shaking - sinking I still stand for old ladies
Can't shout, can't scream, hurt myself to get pain out

I 'T' them, 24:7, all year long
Purgatory's circle, drowning here, someone will always say yes
Funny place for the social, for the insects to start caring
Just an ambulance at the bottom of a cliff

In these plagued streets of pity you can buy anything
For $200 anyone can conceive a God on video
He's a boy, you want a girl so tear off his cock
Tie his hair in bunches, fuck him, call him Rita if you want, if you want

I eat and I dress and I wash and I can still say thank you
Puking - shaking - sinking I still stand for old ladies
Can't shout, can't scream, I hurt myself to get pain out

Power produces desire, the weak have none
There's no lust in this coma even for a fifty
Solitude, solitude, the 11th commandment

The only certain thing that is left about me
There is no part of my body that has not been used
Pity or pain, to show displeasure's shame
Everyone I've loved or hated always seems to leave

And in these plagued streets of pity you can buy anything
For $200 anyone can conceive a God on video
He's a boy, you want a girl so tear off his cock
Tie his hair in bunches, fuck him, call him Rita if you want, if you want

Power produces desire, the weak have none
There's no lust in this coma even for a fifty
Solitude, solitude, the 11th commandment

Don't hurt, just obey, lie down, do as they say
May as well be heaven this hell, smells the same
These sunless afternoons I can't find myself

Two dollars you rub her tits
Three dollars you rub her ass
Five dollars you can play with her pussy
or you can lick her tits
Choice is yours

. . .


(Words: Nicky Wire/Richey James; Music: James Dean Bradfield/Sean Moore)

Next Thursday you're invited to watch Rising Tide's live coverage of a gala tribute in salute to Ronald Reagan. Host Haley Barbour joins special guest lady Margaret Thatcher in celebrating the former president's 83 birthday. Ticket's are 1000 Dollars a plate but you can see the event free on GOP TV.

Images of perfection, suntan and napalm
Grenada - Haiti - Poland - Nicaragua
Who shall we choose for our morality
I'm thinking right now of Hollywood tragedy

Big mac: smack: phoenix r: please smile y'all
Cuba, Mexico can't cauterize our discipline
Your idols speak so much of the abyss
Yet your morals only run as deep as the surface

Cool - groovy - morning - fine
(If white)
Tipper Gore was a friend of mine
(America)
I love a free country
(told the truth)
The stars and stripes and an apple for mommy
(for one day)

Conservative say: there ain't no black in the union jack
Democrat say: there ain't enough white in the stars and stripes

Compton - Harlem - a pimp fucked a priest
The white man has just found a new moral saviour
Vital stats - how white was their skin
Unimportant - just another inner-city drive-by thing

Morning - fine - serve your first coffee of the day
Real privilege, it will take your problems all away
Number one - the best - no excuse from me
I am here to serve the moral majority

Cool - groovy - morning - fine
(If white)
Tipper Gore was a friend of mine
(America)
I love a free country
(told the truth)
The stars and stripes and an apple for mommy
(for one day)

Zapruder the first to masturbate
The world's first taste of crucified grace
And we say: there's not enough black in the union jack
And we say: there's too much white in the stars and stripes

Fuck the Brady bill
Fuck the Brady bill
If God made man they say
Sam Colt made him equal


. . .


(Words: Nicky Wire/Richey James; Music: James Dean Bradfield/ Sean Moore)

I knew that someday I was gonna die
And I knew before I died
Two things would happen to me
That number one: I would regret my entire life
And number two: I would want to live my life over again

I knew that someday I was gonna die
And I knew before I died
Two things would happen to me
That number one: I would regret my entire life
And number two: I would want to live my life over again

Life is lead weights, pendulum died
Pure or lost, spectator or crucified
Recognised truth acedia's blackest hole
Junkies winos whores the nation's moral suicide

Loser - liar - fake or phoney
No one cares, everyone is guilty
Fucked up - dunno why - you poor little boy

We are all of walking abortions
Shalom shalom we all love our children
We all are of walking abortions
Shalom shalom there are no horizons

Mussolini hangs from a butcher's hook
Hitler reprised in the worm of your soul
Horthy's corpse screened to a million
Tisu revived, the horror of a bullfight

Fragments of uniforms, open black ruins
A moral conscience - you've no wounds to show
So wash your car in your 'X' baseball shoes

We are all of walking abortions
Shalom shalom we all love our children
We all are of walking abortions
Shalom shalom there are no horizons

Little people in little houses
Like maggots small blind and worthless
The massacred innocent blood stains us all

Who's responsible - you fucking are
Who's responsible - you fucking are
Who's responsible - you fucking are
Who's responsible - you fucking are
Who's responsible

. . .


(Words: Nicky Wire/Richey James; Music: James Dean Bradfield/Sean Moore)

Beauty finds refuge in herself
Lovers wrapped inside each others lies
Beauty is such a terrible thing
She is suffering yet more than death

She is suffering
She sucks you deeper in
She is suffering
You exist within her shadow

Beauty she is scarred into man's soul
A flower attracting lust, vice and sin
A vine that can strangle life from a tree
Carrion, surrounding, picking on leaves

She is suffering
She sucks you deeper in
She is suffering
You exist within her shadow

Beauty she poisons unfaithful all
Stifled, her touch is leprous and pale
The less she gives the more you need her
No thoughts to forget when we were children

She is suffering
She sucks you deeper in
She is suffering

. . .


(Words: Nicky Wire/Richey James; Music: James Dean Bradfield/Sean Moore)

I wonder who you think you are
You damn well think you're God or something
God give life, God taketh it away, not you
I think you are the Devil itself

If hospitals cure
Then prisons must bring their pain
Don't be ashamed to slaughter
The centre of humanity is cruelty
There is never redemption
Any fool can regret yesterday
Nail it to the House of Lords
You will be buried in the same box as a killer, as a killer, as a killer

A drained white body hangs from the gallows
Is more righteous than Hindley's crotchet lectures
Pain not penance, forget martyrs, remember victims
The weak die young and right now we crouch to make them strong

Kill Yeltsin, who's saying?
Zhirinovsky, Le Pen,
Hindley and Brady, Ireland, Allit, Sutcliffe,
Dahmer, Nielson, Yoshinori Ueda,
Blanche and Pickles, Amin, Milosovic
Give them respect they deserve
Give them the respect they deserve
Give them the respect they deserve
Give them the respect they deserve

Execution needed
A bloody vessel for your peace
If man makes death then death makes man
Tear the torso with horses and chains
Killers view themselves like they view the world, they pick at the holes
Not punish less, rise the pain
Sterilise rapists, all I preach is extinction

Kill Yeltsin, who's saying?
Zhirinovsky, Le Pen,
Hindley and Brady, Ireland, Allit, Sutcliffe,
Dahmer, Nielson, Yoshinori Ueda,
Blanche and Pickles, Amin, Milosovic
Give them respect they deserve
Give them the respect they deserve
Give them the respect they deserve

. . .


(Words: Nicky Wire/Richey James; Music: James Dean Bradfield/Sean Moore)

Mr. Lenin - awaken the boy
Mr. Stalin - bi-sexual epoch
Kruschev - self love in his mirrors
Brezhnev - married into group sex
Gorbachev - celibate self importance
Yeltsin - failure is his own impotence

Revol revol
Revol revol
Lebensraum kulturkampf
Raus raus
Fila fila

Napoleon - childhood sweethearts
Chamberlain - you see God in you
Trotsky - honeymoon - serenade the naked
Che Guevara - you're all target now
Pol Pot - withdrawn traces bye bye
Farrakhan - alimony alimony

Revol revol
Revol revol
Lebensraum kulturkampf
Raus raus
Fila fila

Revol revol
Revol revol
Lebensraum kulturkampf
Raus raus
Fila fila


. . .


(Words: Nicky Wire/Richey James; Music: James Dean Bradfield/Sean Moore)

I eat too much to die
And not enough to stay alive
I'm sitting in the middle waiting

Days since I last pissed
Cheeks sunken and despaired
So gorgeous sunk to six stone
Lose my only remaining home

See my third rib appear
A week later all my flesh disappears
Stretching taut, cling-film on bone
I'm getting better

Karen says I've reached my target weight
Kate and Emma and Kristin know it's fake
Problem is diet's not a big enough word
I wanna be so skinny that I rot from view

I want to walk in the snow
And not leave a footprint
I want to walk in the snow
And not soil its purity

Stomach collapsed at five
Lift up my skirt my sex is gone
Naked and lovely and 5st. 2
May I bud and never flower

My vision's getting blurred
But I can see my ribs and I feel fine
My hands are trembling stalks
And I can feel my breasts are sinking

Mother trys to choke me with roast beef
And sits savouring her sole Ryvitta
That's the way you're built my father said
But I can change, my cocoon shedding

I want to walk in the snow
And not leave a footprint
I want to walk in the snow
And not soil its purity

Kate and Kristin and Kit Kat
All things I like looking at
Too weak to fuss, too weak to die
Choice is skeletal in everybody's life

I choose my choice, I starve to frenzy
Hunger soon passes and sickness soon tires
Legs bend, stockinged I am Twiggy
And I don't mind the horror that surrounds me

Self-worth scatters, self-esteem's a bore
I long since moved to a higher plateau
This discipline's so rare so please applaud
Just look at the fat scum who pamper me so

Yeh 4st. 7, an epilogue of youth
Such beautiful dignity in self-abuse
I've finally come to understand life

. . .


(Words: Nicky Wire/Richey James; Music: James Dean Bradfield/Sean Moore)

Wherever you go I will be carcass
Whatever you see will be rotting flesh
Humanity recovered glittering etiquette
Answers her crimes with Mausoleum rent

Regained your self-control
And regained your self-esteem
And blind your success inspires
And analyse, despise and scrutinise
Never knowing what you hoped for
And safe and warm but life is so silent
For the victims who have no speech
In their shapeless guilty remorse
Obliterates your meaning
Obliterates your meaning
Obliterates your meaning
Your meaning, your meaning

No birds - no birds
The sky is swollen black
No birds - no birds
Holy mass of dead insect

Come and walk down memory lane
No one sees a thing but they can pretend
Life eternal scorched grass and trees
For your love nature has haemorrhaged

Regained your self-control
And regained your self-esteem
And blind your success inspires
And analyse, despise and scrutinise
Never knowing what you hoped for
And safe and warm but life is so silent
For the victims who have no speech
In their shapeless guilty remorse
Obliterates your meaning
Obliterates your meaning
Obliterates your meaning
Your meaning, your meaning

No birds - no birds
The sky is swollen black
No birds - no birds
Holy mass of dead insect

I wanted to rub the human face in its own vomit... and force it to look in the mirror

And life can be as important as death
But so mediocre when there's no air, no light and no hope
Prejudice burns brighter when it's all we have to burn

. . .


(Words: Nicky Wire/Richey James; Music: James Dean Bradfield/Sean Moore)

I hate purity
Hate goodness
I don't want virtue to exist anywhere
I want everyone corrupt

I am an architect, they call me a butcher
I am a pioneer, they call me primitive
I am purity, they call me perverted
Holding you but I only miss these things when they leave

I am idiot drug hive, the virgin, the tattered and the torn
Life is for the cold made warm and they are just lizards
Self-disgust is self-obsession honey and I do as I please
A morality obedient, only to the cleansed repented

I am stronger than Mensa, Miller and Mailer
I spat out Plath and Pinter
I am all the things that you regret
A truth that washes that learnt how to spell

The first time you see yourself naked you cry
Soft skin now acne, foul breath, so broken
He loves me truly this mute solitude I'm draining
I know I believe in nothing but it is my nothing

Sleep can't hide the thoughts splitting through my mind
Shadows aren't clean, false mirrors too many people awake
If you stand up like a nail then you will be knocked down
I've been too honest with myself I should have lied like everybody else

I am stronger than Mensa, Miller and Mailer
I spat out Plath and Pinter
I am all the things that you regret
A truth that washes that learnt how to spell, learnt to spell

So damn easy to cave in, man kills everything
So damn easy to cave in, man kills everything
So damn easy to cave in, man kills everything

. . .


(Words: Nicky Wire/Richey James; Music: James Dean Bradfield/Sean Moore)

Do not listen to a word I say
Just listen to what I can keep silent
The only way to gain approval
Is by exploiting the very thing that cheapens me

And I stare at the sky
And it leaves me blind
I close my eyes
And this is yesterday

Someone somewhere soon will take care of you
I repent, I'm sorry, everything is falling apart
Houses as ruins and gardens as weeds
Why do anything when you can forget everything

And I stare at the sky
And it leaves me blind
I close my eyes
And this is yesterday

I stare at the sky
And it leaves me blind
I close my eyes

. . .


(Words: Nicky Wire/Richey James; Music: James Dean Bradfield/Sean Moore)

Scratch my leg with a rusty nail, sadly it heals
Colour my hair but the dye grows out
I can't seem to stay a fixed ideal

Childhood pictures redeem, clean and so serene
See myself without ruining lines
Whole days throwing sticks into streams

I have crawled so far sideways
I recognise dim traces of creation
I wanna die, die in the summertime, I wanna die

The hole in my life even stains the soil
My heart shrinks to barely a pulse
A tiny animal curled into a quarter circle
If you really care wash the feet of a beggar

I have crawled so far sideways
I recognise dim traces of creation
I wanna die, die in the summertime, I wanna die

I have crawled so far sideways
I recognise dim traces of creation

. . .


(Words: Nicky Wire/Richey James; Music: James Dean Bradfield/Sean Moore)

The court has come. The court of the Nations and into the courtroom will come the martyrs of Majdanek and Oswiecim. From the ditch of Kerch the dead will rise, they will arise from the graves, they will arise from flames bringing with them the acrid smoke and the deathly odour of scorched markings. And the children they too will come, stern and merciless. The butchers had no pity on them. Now the victims will judge the butchers. Today the tear of the child is the judge. The grief of the mother is the prosecutor.

You were what you were
Clean cut, unbecoming
Recreation for the masses
You always mistook fists for flowers

Welcome welcome soldier smiling
Funeral march for agony's last edge
6 Million screaming souls
Maybe misery - maybe nothing at all
Lives that wouldn't have changed a thing
Never counted - never mattered - never be

Arbeit macht frei
Transports of invalids
Hartheim Castle breathes us in
In block 5 we worship malaria
Lagerstrasse, poplar trees
Beauty lost, dignity gone
Rascher surveys us butcher bacteria

Welcome welcome soldier smiling
Soon infected, nails broken, hunger's a word
6 Million screaming souls
Maybe misery - maybe nothing at all
Lives that wouldn't have changed a thing
Never counted - never mattered - never be

Drink it away, every tear is false
Churchill no different

. . .


(Words: Nicky Wire/Richey James; Music: James Dean Bradfield/Sean Moore)

Teacher starve your child, P.C. approved
As long as the right words are used
Systemised atrocity ignored
As long as bi-lingual signs on view
Ten foot sign in Oxford Street
Be pure - be vigilant - behave
Grey not neon, grey not real
Life bleeds, death is your birthright
P.C. she speaks impotent, sterile, naive, blind, atheist, sadist, stiff-upper lip, first principle of her silence, of her silence

PCP - a P.C. police victory
PCP - a P.C. pyrrhic victory
When I was young P.C. meant Police Constable
Nowadays I can't seem to tell the difference

Liposuction for your bad mouth boy
Cut out your tongue, effigies are sold
Words discoloured, bow to the bland
Heal yourself with sinner's salt
Doctors arrested for euthanasia
Kill smokers through blind vanity
If you're fat don't get ill
Europe's gravestone carved in plastic
P.C. she says inoculate, hallucinate, beware Shakespeare, bring fresh air, king cigarette snuffed out by her midgets, by her midgets

PCP - a P.C. police victory
PCP - a P.C. pyrrhic victory
When I was young P.C. meant Police Constable
Nowadays I can't seem to tell the difference

P.C. caresses bigots and big brother, read Leviticus, learnt censorship, pro-life equals anti-choice, to be scared of, of feathers

PCP - a P.C. police victory
PCP - a P.C. pyrrhic victory
When I was young P.C. meant Police Constable
Nowadays I can't seem to tell the difference

Lawyers before love, surrogate sex
This land bows down to
Yours, unconditional love and hate
Pass the prozac, designer amnesiac


. . .


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