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    Roy Harper »

    Roy Harper Nineteen Forty-eight текст песни

    Nineteen Forty-eight

    The lemmings push their pens and rush
    In hoards of crashing stupor
    Towards the farms of Babylon
    To scramble mother nature
    Where unrelenting drudgery
    Is all there is to nurture
    And life and death are by consent
    And love is for oppression
    Welcome to my nightmare
    It’s the one in which I always press the button

    A million tons of printed shit
    Come through my door each day
    Up to my dick, around my neck
    I can’t even throw it away
    Bills for my shirt, receipts for my soul
    With only a momenty to pay
    Before the thud of the future
    Gives me the shakes
    Welcome to my nightmare
    It’s the one in which I always burn the cakes

    In 1649

    Just as I light the loaded fire
    A space invander lands
    It’s full of cops and bureaucrats
    With bouquets of final demands
    And I see my life flash before me again
    Slipping through my hands
    As the sound of harvest closes in
    Swooping — reaping
    Welcome to my nightmare
    It’s the one in which I walk when I’m not sleeping

    In thirteen twenty four
    The one we’ve all been waiting for
    Nineteen eighty-four

    There’s a little man left to hold the can
    He don’t know how and his only plan
    Is everlasting life

    He beats the street with his plates of meat
    In the sandwhich board of his final retreat
    Bellowing goodbye

    Everyone sees and nobody shares
    Everyone knows its the truth that he bears
    That the end is nigh

    And he stands against the rails at Oxford Circus
    Leafleting the souls who keep this pace
    That gathers speed and calls itself
    The human race

    And shadows fight with men of straw
    In pockets of derision
    While mother checks up on the stars
    Denies her intuition
    And sends young Julia to school
    To learn an empty vision
    That’s full of paper tiger rats
    To pass to her own children
    Welcome to my nightmare
    I’m the father, son and whole polluted system

    In nineteen eighty-four
    Nineteen eighty-four
    Nineteen eighty-four
    The one we’ve all been longing for
    Nineteen eighty-four



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