Get all 8 The Mystery Fax Machine Orchestra releases available on Bandcamp and save 15%.
Includes unlimited streaming via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality downloads of The Ultimate Boon, The Hero's Journey, Master of the Two Worlds EP, Supernatural Aid EP, Down The Allotment/Waltzing EP, Master Flea, Dudley And His Magic Pants EP, and Thank-You For Not Discussing the Outside World EP.
1. |
The Hero's Journey
00:36
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2. |
The Call to Adventure
03:02
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The Call to Adventure
The Call to Adventure calls
The Call to Adventure
The Call to Adventure’s calling to the faraway towns
You don’t need no reasons; be glad
Though, this reason is the clincher
It’s just a normal, mundane venture, but, now, for a fixed time only, with an ‘Ad’
That’s why you should heed The Call to Adventure!
Don’t hang up (The Call to Adventure)
Don’t Caller ID (The Call to Adventure)
Please hold. (The Call to Adventure)
It will not rest (The Call to Adventure)
Night and day (The Call to Adventure)
Don’t ask for whom the Call to Adventure
Calls to adventure一it calls for you一and, if not you, then who?
Anybody will do, it won’t stop
Ignore the call to Holy Orders
Ignore the call round to your mother’s, just to see if she needs something from the shop
But you should not ignore the Call to Adventure
Congratulations, Mrs. Edward Bower, you may have already won a Call to Adventure
A colleague of mine may have already spoken with you about the Call to Adventure
Is now not a good time? No? Well, just to let you know, there’s a Call to Adventure catered and designed to you and your husband’s need waiting for you on the line...
That’s why you should heed the Call to Adventure now.
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3. |
Refusal of the Call
07:19
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Portage la Prairie, Manitoba, 1954. A joint called Ray's Stop & Stay. A telephone rings, sadly, to stage left. Benoît, the little Métis busboy, runs to answer: it’s a long-distance call from St. Paul, Minnesota. It’s for Ray; it's always for Ray.
If it’s Betsy, say I’m busy
If it’s Iris, say I’m cruel and cold
If it’s Martha, just ask is she
Serious or can she hold?
Tell her to call me later
Tell her call some other time
Tell her: Call me Ishmael
Tell her that’s a joke of mine
You should have just ignored her
Or let the phone ring off the wall
Or tell her to insert a quarter
For the next three minutes of the call
So tell Bara: "A'ole, mahalo"
Tell Brune “Das ist nicht ein Schnabeltier?”
Tell Denise I'm going solo
On this old rusty horn right here
Say I’m on my deathbed,
Which should make Jemima glad
And with my dying breath said
“Sorry, the line is very bad.”
Tell her I am wretched
With a dose of contagious speech
And I don't want her to catch it
So she should keep the phone well out of reach
And I can’t reach the receiver
And the stools have all got broken legs
And I’ve come down with a fever
And my beer glass is all full up with dregs
And Mabel knows that I have rabies
Now tell her I have foot in mouth
And mwmwmwmmmwm
Mwwmmwm hard to make me out
Tell her I’m heartbroken
Cuz the band have all moved to Illinois
And she’s so softly-spoken
I can’t hear her over all their noise
And AJ’s backing Streisand
And Scooby’s backing someone else
And since the others formed a klezmer band
I have to play the parts myself
So I haven’t got a hand spare
I lost my feet in a poker game.
And my brain has gone in for repair
And my vocal cords went up in flame
And my teeth are in the pawn shop,
My tongue decided to settle down,
And my mouth ran off and left me
For another face in another town
But only if it’s Sharon
Not if it is Bethany
Or Katie, Kim, or Karen.
However, if it’s Stephanie
Tell Suzy to be patient
Tell Marianne I’m still a jerk
Tell June to call my agent.
And tell my agent to get back to work
If it’s Abigail, show prudence
If it’s Prudence, show restraint
If it’s Charity, I gave too much
And if it’s Hope; there ain’t
And I'd rather you told Laurie
I'm excavating for a mine
And, if it's Clementine, I'm sorry
I'm so sorry, Clementine
Tell her I’m in Poland
Tell her I’m in Temple Bar
Tell her I’m in Glengoland
Ladybrook or Divis Tower
Tell her I’m in Poleglass
The Murph, the Whiterock, or the Falls
I’m in Clonard taking Mass
So I can’t take any calls
If she asks you, give her
The number for the Vatican
That lot can forgive her
A lot more easily than I can
Say my mind began to wander
Just like her cheating heart once did
No, not that... I don't want her
To know I know Baby Judas is not my kid
That’s only if it’s Molly
Or Lydia or Lil or Lynn
On the other hand, if it’s Holly
I’m not in
If it’s Minnie on the other end
I’m not free until next year
But, if it’s Kitty calling me
I’m here
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4. |
Supernatural Aid
04:01
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Hush now baby, hold me tight
It’s just something going bump in the night
Bump in the night
Something will go bump tonight
Don’t be frightened
My embrace just tightened
Around you, all night long so sshhh
Was that something downstairs?
It can’t be up here
Because there’s nothing happening in the bedroom... yet.
Hush now baby, hold your tongue
There’s nothing too unusual going on
It’s just the wind in the tree
Why don’t you move close to me?
It’s really nothing
But you must want something
To keep waking up all night
When I need your love so bad
I think of all the love we’ve had
An apparition of what once was
Has been kicking up a fuss
There’s a poltergeist of pure romance
That makes our old four-poster dance
Supernatural aid, supernatural aid
Behind the loving that we’ve made
Was something blowing in your ear
But when you open up your eyes it disappeared?
There’s nothing to fear
Hold on, darling, I’m here
What’s that sounding?
Is it your heart pounding?
Just knock three times for ‘yes’
When I need your love so bad
I think of all the love we’ve had
There are ghosts of memories of love
That I keep dreaming of
There’s a wraith of writhing hands and limbs
That screeches when the night light dims
Supernatural aid, supernatural aid
Behind the loving that we’ve made
Do you feel the energy? Do you feel the force?
Shaking through the windows and the doors
You wonder where it’s coming from
The ghost of loving past is present
And so is the ghost of loving yet-to-come
Do you feel a presence in the room?
Well, that’s just me
It’s me blowing in your ear
But since you’re awake now
Supernatural aid, supernatural aid
Behind the loving that we’ve made
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5. |
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6. |
Belly of the Whale
03:56
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A lamp
A willow tree
Two lovers in peril
A key to a lock that is also somewhere abouts
A bobbing, brown box of tea
Bits of old songs; a cat, one almost drowned, but breathing at that
And a hat一Does anybody still wear a hat?
A saucer, a cup
The first manuscript of Orwell’s “Coming Up For Air” is down there
Under the waves, by the tongue, by the stair
A candle? Too wet. A flashlight with... oh, it seems, too big a dent
And, by touch and by scent, I think a small box of matches一spent
And the mouth opens wide, and yet more pours inside.
The water’s lifting, as the walls start shifting
And things start drifting with the flow
You can tell with your hands, that these must be glands
As the glands expand and the arteries grow
Groping about inside a whale
For every last detail must be learned by braïlle
In the big, black belly of the whale
It’s a battle through the rattle of the chattels
Where a rat’ll root about inside your suit
And the gloom hides the faces of the stacked Ming vases
Whose glazes leave sharp traces when they’re trampled underfoot
One heave and groan and you’re bodily thrown
Under twenty stone of steel
And the chaps in the fetters don’t fare much better
When they’re tossed together with each turn and wheel
You can hear them bellow and wail?
If the thing should inhale, there’s a forty knot gale
That will blow through the belly of the whale
In the belly of a whale, there’s a library, which is mainly books on tape
The ones on fishing and means of escape
Appear to all be out on loan
In the trammel of the tooth enamel
Of the deep-sea mammal there are fish
If you can spot ‘em, long forgotten,
Slowly turning rotten, when they were once delicious
Trapped down here, in this dark, austere
And bleak interior
Smell the decoration with acute frustration
Now, is that cetacean a big porpoise
Or is it another bloody whale?
On a much smaller scale, fitting head to tail
In the big, black belly of the whale
In the belly of a whale, a light pours in through a hole that opens and shuts
Hitting something shiny, deep in the guts
It’s the Holy Grail… but to get the Grail, you must first enter The Lions’ Den, in The Dragon’s Lair, in The Belly of the Beast, which is a whale
An old man
Sits by the Grail in the belly of the whale
Looking pale and frail and thin
In this salty offing, all cackles and coughing
I ask: “Is there nothing not found within
The belly of this whale?”
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7. |
Road of Trials
03:46
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Hush, Little Lady, you've already got enough off your chest
I'm just a tall, dark stranger riding in with a tall tale to confess
Straight as a bullet cross the Jersey Line
I'll have one hand on the throttle and one hand on your thigh
Our only way of life is to die
On the Road of Trials.
I knew that when I started that it would be hard; it is a jungle out there.
You need nine heads, at least, to topple the beast and take the lion's share.
Life is tough for Average Joes like us
But you don't need street smarts to get it sussed
You just kick up your kickstand and kick up the dust
On the Road of Trials.
Give it to me, Baby, give it up
Cuz what I need is what you've got
On the Road of Trials
Clocking ninety on the dials
Outpaced the arrow
Ran the deer out of view
I mastered this hog
And I rode it to you
But the Road of Trials ain't through
I've been working for The Man on his twelve-step plan to break my soul
I've been cleaning his crap up, knocking his birds down, and hitting his goals.
With the same song on the radio again,
I hit the fast lane to break the chain
Cuz you can't ride to freedom on a subway train
Just the Road of Trials
Let me have it, Baby, give it to me
Cuz what you've got is what I need
On the Road of Trials
Scorching up the endless miles
Bull by the handles
Horses long gone;
Always just almost
Five miles from the dawn
And the Road of Trials goes on
Your friends don't think I'm worth it; don’t think I’ll treat you honourably
But the only honour I know is the judge, babe, and he's got it in for me
Just give me up your girdle; my hands are like me: they stray.
Tell me you'll love me forever, darling, and I'll be on my way
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8. |
Meeting with the Goddess
04:37
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She wore her hair like one of the Brethren
Well-worn-down like a Free Presbyterian
Her Catholic knees and taste
Her morals were Lutheran
Mine were “loothe”
I watched her keeping the holy day holy
Having no God ahead of the true God
Her mouth was free from sin
Nothing got past her lips
Except the truth
Amen, a moment, please
Then take your hand in mine and peace be with you
Father forgive me for holding too tightly
Father forgive me for holding too long
She sat in easy state
Honouring her mother
And on and on
And on, and on, commandment one
Thou shalt put hand in hand and peace be with you
She put her hand in mine and peace be with me
The night's drawn in
Indian ink
Over and over pauses the pen
To drink
The constellation’s navigation
Softly sing the silent stars unspoken song
But, to woo, the owls
"To-whit, to-woo"
Through the woods, but out to whom?
The dawn goes on and on and onwards
Onward goes the dawn and on and on and on
A million times. On and on
I say my prayers at night and dream of you
Wearing your hair like one of the Brethren
Well-Worn-Down like a Free Presbyterian
Your Catholic knees and taste
Your morals are Lutheran
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9. |
Woman as Temptress
04:34
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To begin, you must have heard,
There was, initially, The Word.
The word was God, which then conferred
No referent nor meaning.
No one then could understand
The Word, so God thus waved his hand
And in that way the world was manned
Through Godly intervening.
Very pleased to have, at last,
Some human lips that could be passed
And tips of tongues to sit amast,
The Word was newly buoyant.
But God一The Word一was very proud
And never would be said aloud.
His name it must be talked around
For God is an avoidant.
And Man was charged to make up terms
To tell the wyverns from the worms,
The packrats from the pachyderms
From planktons of the oceans.
For mountain goats and moles and mice;
For lugworms, locusts, labs, and lice;
For all the things of Paradise,
But not for his emotions.
"Why is it that I am... um... sad?
My heart? feels... uh... I want to say... bad?
Driven was it... that's it! Mad!"
Thus love songs were invented.
What was missing, missed, or gone,
He could not put his finger on.
The mots he had amassed were bon,
But not when thus presented.
"Good work," said God, "But here's the rub:
I have a book for you to sub.
It's called The Bib.. O, please, don't blub.
There's a good boy. Steady."
So God created, on a whim,
Another mouth to speak of him,
Hewn from intercostal limb...
You know her name already.
Life in Eden now was ace,
Without a hint of fall from grace.
It was a much more noisy place
With Man no longer single-ish.
Until a reptile, serpent, snake.
Of Tantilla Coronata make,
Coiled around a tree and spake...
(Naturally in English):
"Eat this fruit and know the truth.
The mortal mouth, it is uncouth.
The body, vile! Observe the proof:
Your pubis is all hair-flecked."
The Man and Woman peeked below,
Then gave the cursed fruit a go.
No one had invented 'No!'
For Paradise was perfect.
God, who had no cause before,
Made up swears and promptly swore,
Grouping letters into fours
To put across his fire.
This gave early woman pause:
These were all unwritten laws
And the snake, for all his flaws,
Never was a liar.
For this, they were cast out, that's known,
Leaving God一The Word一alone,
With no companions to atone
Or make apologetics.
But, at this point, The Word was glad
That Man had first created “sad”
And “bad” and, though it made him mad,
It made him empathetic.
Who was there to comprehend
The Word, which saw no face nor friend?
That's why The Word had to be penned
To follow on behind them.
In pamphlet, holy book, and scroll;
On sandwich board and grilled cheese roll,
His praise and virtue to extol,
He sent words out to find them.
No! they said to being returned.
No! the lesson they had learned.
They spoke of him and his ears burned;
They wouldn't let him in though.
The Word they'd silently ignore
When he came knocking at their door.
They'd lie still upon the floor:
He'd look in through the window.
For Man does well not to forget
That day or night filled with regret
When words were used to easily set
Children against parent.
Cast outside or riven loose
By serpent's tongue and God's abuse:
The Word is understood by use
With no meaning inherent.
By the by, all mortals fought
On what it is The Word is not
And that, itself, is quite a thought
To ponder for an aeon.
A note of fact or work of fiction,
Catalogue of contradiction,
Suffering from sloppy diction,
That no one can agree on.
Strong sentiments in Aramaic
Now sound dusty and archaic,
Translation is not formulaic:
Take care in its appliance.
The words that built your sacred prose
Are those that the translator chose.
Religious zeal, God only knows,
Is not an exact science
Is Man right to feel paranoid,
With God now just a silent void...
The dark, dumb Dad of Dr. Freud?
They ought to have that queried.
If to begin we'd only heard
That sorry was the hardest word...
In the end, though, rest assured,
There'll be a full-stop. Period.
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10. |
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At the Natural History Museum
Each Saturday of every other week
It shuts at 7pm.
The father and the son and the antiques
The parent stands behind the boy who stands before the exhibition
The glass between the men and man who stands behind the glass
Is standing even
And dark, and clear
"Look upon that ancient creature,"
The father said, with pathos, to the child
"Its every feral feature
Take its savage gait; its glare is wild
We used to be like that. Now we are advanced and have museums
Working off his lower functions, unafraid of how the future sees him.”
He had an inner monologue
I daren't repeat
It had too many expletives
Though, to summarise, in brief
Who am I to set things right?
Oh, Mama
Who am I to set things right?
Oh, Mama
Who am I to set things right?
Son and father reunited
For several hours one weekend afternoon
The hall is poorly lighted
And the gift shop closes soon
The father stares. He's unaware that the display is empty
For months, it's been out for repair. His reflection, there, is standing faintly
And dark, and clear
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11. |
Apotheosis
02:15
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12. |
The Ultimate Boon
05:10
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It's December 28th
Good Will lingers in Good Faith
People smile; a child insists
"It's Christmas."
(My) True Love must complete her set
But the shops aren't open yet
Where to source four calling birds
For Christmas?
Five Gold Rings; Six Geese a-laying
Seven Swans-a-Swimming
True Love, on the nineteenth day
I got a little lost
I got you a moose
Hope you like it
There's that song on the radio again
Christmas. Christmas. Christmas. Christmas.
Christmas. Christmas. Christmas. Christmas.
Christmas. Christmas. Christmas. Christmas. Christmas.
January 12th, so strange
It's Christmas still and nothing's changed
The tree stayed up and Love Came Down
At Christmas
March the 22nd. Well
There's the peal of Yuletide bells
And Peace on Earth’s a living Hell
At Christmas
Forty-seven wizards whizzing
Seventy-two Holders nodding
There’s that song on the radio again
June 15th, I'm up at dawn
To put another turkey on
To lay before the family
At Christmas.
No more turkeys still exist
Rover, old friend, you’ll be missed
A dog's not just for life, a dog's
For Christmas
T'is the season to be sad, so so sad
Over all the Christmases that you’ve had
So, one foggy Christmas Eve
Close your eyes and just believe
You can make a wish come true
At Christmas
The fire is out; the curtains shut
I would wish on that star, but
It is never Christmas Eve
It's Christmas.
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13. |
Refusal of the Return
03:18
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The clock ticks a tock like a snare as we prepare to play Brahms
The bell takes its toll on our souls as we all sit our music exams
I'm sick of paying some guy twenty pounds an hour to be conservative in the conservatoire
I want the sort of song that makes me move my hips
The music I love never came on manuscripts
They can bar the guitar from the music block and make us play Bach
Enrol us, control us, patrol us, but we came here to rock
No more weighing scales and no more arpeggios
No more taking bows and no more stringing bows
I want the sort of song that makes me move my hips
The music I love never came on manuscripts
So long, I'm playing cool
No no no no not going back NO! No NO! No, I'm leaving school
This is our goal stoke the coals with the force of Bikini Atoll
They'll dictate, indoctrinate, but it's too late we're gonna rock and roll
I think of all the education that I missed
But Hendrix never played a squeezebox quite like this
I want the sort of song that makes me move my hips
The music I love never came on manuscripts
So, so long, I'm playing cool
No no no no not going back NO! No NO! No, I'm leaving school
But before I leave, I’ve written a song
I wrote it at the back of the class
With just the truth, seventeen chords, and a twenty-four piece orchestra
I'm sick of paying some guy twenty pounds an hour to be conservative in the conservatoire
I want the sort of song that makes me move my hips
The music I love never came on manuscripts
So long, I'm playing cool
No no no no not going back NO! No NO! No, I'm leaving school
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14. |
The Magic Flight
03:57
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15. |
Rescue from Without
02:53
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Much of what I think is nothing much
Much of what I say is meaningless
And half is not worth saying anyway
And always either my mind's filled with sound
Or always it is full of songs of birds
That just go round and round and round and round
Without me, within me is empty
A valley where beingness goes
Without me, within me is empty
A valley where meaningness flows
Inside, I'm flying, I'm flying
Inside, I'm flying, I'm flying
Inside, I'm flying, I'm flying
Open the door and let me free
One step to betterness is tuning out
A stage of betterment is turning off
And not to burn out but fade away
Without me, within me is empty
A valley where beingness goes
Without me, within me is empty
A valley where meaningness flows
Inside, I'm flying, I'm flying
Inside, I'm flying, I'm flying
Inside, I'm flying, I'm flying
Open the door and let me free
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16. |
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One of the two
Less sound on his feet
Went stumbling through
Where the ground don’t meet
Where only a space, a tear, a split
Offered no place to bear his bootprint
With a small misstep for man
The moon is unkind. In the plan
It said you must leave the man behind
And one of the pair
Was stuck, standing fast
Knowing up there
He could but broadcast
Though if he were heard who’d waive the rule?
Collins, their third, can’t leave the module
Like a horse on her last legs
Dog on her deathbed, his eyes beg
But there’s something that dare not be said
And they wait out the cold of summer
To stave off incoming slumber
They rhyme out sequences of numbers
Counting down the time that they’ve got left up there
Up there up there
Higher than breathable air
I always seem to wake up there
Midway through the dream
Asleep at the keys
Will this moon-white ream
Keep hold of words like these?
Expression of grief, of vague intent
The Commander-in-Chief must make a statement
It’s not on the crumpled page
Not in the waste bin in will rage
In the heart. But where to begin?
And I fight off incoming slumber
In hope something new will come there
To break up sequences of numbers
Counting down the time that they’ve got left up there
Up there up there
Higher than breathable air
I always seem to wake up there
Fate has ordained that the men who went to the moon to explore in peace will stay on the moon to rest in peace. These brave men know that there is no hope for their recovery. But they also know that there is hope for mankind in their sacrifice. These two men are laying down their lives in mankind's most noble goal: the search for truth and understanding. They will be mourned by their families and friends; they will be mourned by the nation; they will be mourned by the people of the world; they will be mourned by a Mother Earth that dared send two of her sons into the unknown. In their exploration, they stirred the people of the world to feel as one; in their sacrifice, they bind more tightly the brotherhood of man. In ancient days, men looked at the stars and saw their heroes in the constellations. In modern times, we do much the same, but our heroes are epic men of flesh and blood. Others will follow, and surely find their way home. Man's search will not be denied. But these men were the first, and they will remain the foremost in our hearts. For every human being who looks up at the moon in the nights to come will know that there is some corner of another world that is forever mankind.
A broadcast from Earth
His plea in the night
Issuing forth
At the speed of light
A lasting account of what they did
But as it drifts out, it grows distorted
In event of moon disaster
No eloquence or mastery of words heals what comes after
But then, after all, the words are all we have.
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17. |
Master of the Two Worlds
03:54
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I wake up before the half six news
I break a sweat, then hit the snooze
I've got this一I'm the master of both worlds
On the tube, some people stare at me
"Is that...? I wonder. Could it be?"
It is! It’s me: the Master of Two Worlds
I'm a Master of the Fax Machine
I've mastered keeping my desk clean
I can multi-task and mostly get things right
And astride the photocopier
I copy something poppier
It's a flyer for my gig on Wednesday night
When the lights go up at the Black Sheep Bar in Croydon
That's me up there, The Master of Two Worlds
Thank you, Dave, a coffee does sound great
I guess I stayed up pretty late
But I think that presentation went okay
Now I've got some paperwork to do
Before I take this time in lieu
I'm out of here by four o'clock today
When the lights go up at the Boogaloo in Highgate
That's me up there, The Master of Two Worlds
Hello, sir, you wished to speak with me?
I could do much more for the company?
From lowly temp to permanent full-time?
Why, of course, a first year salary freeze
Yes, Mr. Mephistopheles
Now, where exactly is this dotted line?
When the lights go up at The Water Rats in Kings Cross
That's me up there, Master of Two Worlds
That's me up there
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18. |
Freedom to Live
06:27
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When I was a little boy or girl
I asked mother or father about the world
They said to make a difference
To be the one to take a chance
Not shaken up by circumstance
And never to forget
You must forgive
If just for now
Then you will live
Happy ever after
Then you'll die
So I became a husband or a wife
And asked my spouse about the facts of life
He or she then led me through
The silly things that people do
"And this," she said... "My love," he said... "is true:
Don't try too hard
Don't try to see
Beyond today
Then we might be
Happy ever after
Then we'll die."
If you can look upon your lot
And on the things for which you fought
And still know that it comes to nought, your work is done
Take that loss and put it on
The losing players in Mahjong
Then you will be, though not for long, a man, my son
Then, I had a little girl or boy
Who asked me: "Mama, papa, what is joy?"
It sat upon my knee, or chair
"Child, you must accept despair
It's natural to you as breathing air
Until you stop
Breathing your last
Bar one euphoric final blast
Happy ever after
Then you die"
The years pass by; you pass away
You die to fight no other day
You’re heading west, you’re off to help the flowers grow
You hop the twig, they read your will
You join the choir invisible
You meet your maker, head below. Happy ever after...
Then we’ll go to pay our last respects
To Mr Late, to Mrs Ex
To Master Former, Young Miss Gone
To Reverend Passed, to Count Moved-On
Duke Departed. Earl Above
Lady Remembered, To Sir With Love
Her Grace, the stiff. Dear Doctor Blessed
To the Right Honourable Long-to-Rest
Just not this minute. No, not yet
We haven't paid that final debt
It comes tomorrow, comes in months
But when it comes, it comes but once
We are living! Tempting fate
You in the front row don't look too great
But who here cares what death may bring?
Life isn’t over while we still sing
Happy Ever After
Then we’ll die!
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The Mystery Fax Machine Orchestra London, UK
Orchestral novelty-prog.
No! Wait! Come back!
Based in London, we've been going since 2007. The line-up is around twenty four players.
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