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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


Everything Must Go (23.06.1996)
23.06.1996
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. . .


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

20ft. high on Blackpool promenade
Fake royalty second hand sequin facade
Limited face paint and dyed black quiff
Overweight and out of date

20ft. high on Blackpool promenade
Fake royalty second hand sequin facade
Limited face paint and dyed black quiff
Overweight and out of date

Oh well

American trilogy in Lancashire Pottery
American trilogy in Lancashire Pottery
Is so fucking funny, don't you know
Is so fucking funny, don't you know

All American trilogy in used up cars and bottled beer
All American trilogy the futures dead, fundamentally
It's so fucking funny, it's absurd
It's so fucking funny, it's absurd

20ft. high on Blackpool promenade.

I wish I was in Dixie
Hooray! Hooray!
In Dixie Land, I'll take my stand
To live and die in Dixie


. . .


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

Libraries gave us power
Then work came and made us free
What price now for a shallow piece of dignity

I wish I had a bottle
Right here in my dirty face to wear the scars 
To show from where I came

We don't talk about love we only want to get drunk
And we are not allowed to spend
As we are told that this is the end

A design for life
A design for life
A design for life
A design for life

I wish I had a bottle
Right here in my pretty face to wear the scars
To show from where I came

We don't talk about love we only want to get drunk
And we are not allowed to spend
As we are told that this is the end

A design for life
A design for life
A design for life
A design for life

We don't talk about love we only want to get drunk
And we are not allowed to spend
As we are told that this is the end

A design for life
A design for life
A design for life

. . .


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

Hi Time magazine hi Pulitzer Prize
Tribal scars in Technicolor
Bang bang club AK 47 hour

Kevin Carter

Hi Time magazine hi Pulitzer Prize
Vulture stalked white piped lie forever
Wasted your life in black and white

Kevin Carter
Kevin Carter
Kevin Carter

Kevin Carter
Kevin Carter
Kevin Carter
Kevin Carter

The elephant is so ugly he sleeps his head
Machetes his bed Kevin Carter kaffir lover forever
Click click click click click
Click himself under

Kevin Carter
Kevin Carter

. . .


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

The Statue of Liberty looks so solemn on the tv
100% risk of stepping outside
Every second too precious to try

My heart aches for enola
From my birth a rellik a killer
But all I want to do is live
No matter how miserable it is

Please sing to me a song enola/alone
Please take me on home enola/alone

I walk in the grass and I feel some peace at last
I walk on the beach and for once I feel some ease

I'll take a picture of you
To remember how good you looked
Like memory it has disappeared
Naked and lonely with my fears

Please sing to me a song enola/alone
Please take me on home enola/alone

Please, please sing to me a song enola/alone

. . .


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

Shed some skin for the fear within
Is starting to hurt me with everything

Freed from the memory
Escape from our history, history

And I just hope that you can forgive us
But everything must go

And if you need an explanation
Then everything must go

I look to the future it makes me cry
But it seems too real to tell you why

Freed from the century
With nothing but memory, memory

And I just hope that you can forgive us
But everything must go

And if you need an explanation
Then everything must go

Freed us eventually just need to be happy, happy

And I just hope that you can forgive us
But everything must go

And if you need an explanation
Then everything must go

And I just hope that you can forgive us
But everything must go

And if you need an explanation, -nation
Then everything must go

. . .


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

You have your very own number
They dress your cage in its nature
Once you roared now you just grunt lame
Pace around pathetic pound games

Wanna get out won't miss you sensaround
To carry your own dead to swing your tyre tricks
Wanna get out here you're bred dead quick
For the outside,
The small black flowers that grow in the sky

They drag sticks along your walls
Harvest your ovaries dead mothers crawl
Here comes warden, Christ, temple, elder
Environment not yours you see through it all

Wanna get out won't miss you sensaround
To carry your own dead to swing your tyre tricks
Wanna get out here you're bred dead quick
For the outside,
The small black flowers that grow in the sky

Here chewing your tail is joy

. . .


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

There are no sunsets just silence
You could see that she was true and faithless
But see through the future and forget all the lies
Black out the words for the blind have eyes

I am the girl who wanted to be God
I am the girl who wanted to be God

There are times when you feel hopeless
Just for once for no-one else we are blameless
The dawn is still breaking its heaven is so high
She told the truth, told the truth and then she lied

I am the girl who wanted to be God
I am the girl who wanted to be God

Hold me she said love me to death

I am the girl who wanted to be God
I am the girl who wanted to be God

I am the girl who wanted to be God
I am the girl who wanted to be God

. . .


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

Conscience binds you in chains
Trail by stone hammer and nails
No-one made the holes but me
Misery mourns to be devoured

Killed God blood soiled unclean again
Killed God blood soiled skin dead again
Again everywhere again

All removables, all transitory
All removables, passing always
All removables, all transitory
All removables, passing always

Never grown preserved gently
A bronze moth dies easily
Unknown to others weak to me
Broken hands never ending

Aimless rut of my own perception
Numbly waiting for voices to tell me
For voices to tell me

All removables, all transitory
All removables, passing always
All removables, all transitory
All removables, passing always
All removables, all transitory
All removables, passing always

. . .


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

I don't know if I'm tired and I don't know if I'm ill
My cheeks are turning yellow
I think I'll take another pill

Praying for the wave to come now
It must be for the fifteenth time
I've been here for much too long
This is the past that's mine

I want to fly and run till it hurts
Sleep for a while and speak no words in Australia
I want to fly and run till it hurts
Sleep for a while and speak no words in Australia
In Australia

Praying for the wave to come now
It must be for the very last time
It's twelve o'clock till midnight
There must be someone to blame

I want to fly and run till it hurts
Sleep for a while and speak no words in Australia
I want to fly and run till it hurts
Sleep for a while and speak no words in Australia
In Australia

Australia, in Australia
I want to fly and run till it hurts
Sleep for a while and speak no words in Australia
In Australia
In Australia
In Australia

. . .


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

Who sees the interiors like young Willem once did
Your beautiful triangle of distortion
Now you seem to forget it so much
Who sees the interiors like young Willem once did

Say you can remember say where is the tomorrow
Say where you're coming from
Say what you have left us

Are we too tired to try and understand
That nothing is nothing on that we depend
Take my hand together and we will cry
It really makes no difference
To what we see inside to what we see inside

Who sees the interiors like young Willem once did
A beautiful landscape of your nation
Another era is not forthcoming
Who sees the interiors like young Willem once did

Say you can remember say where is the tomorrow
Say where you're coming from
Say what you have left us

Are we too tired to try and understand
That nothing is nothing on that we depend
Take my hand together and we will cry
It really makes no difference
To what you see inside
What you see inside

Say you can remember say where is the tomorrow
Say where you're coming from
Say what you have

Are we too tired to try and understand
That nothing is nothing on that we depend
Take my hand together and we will cry
It really makes no difference
To what you see inside to what you see inside

. . .


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

The further away I get from you
The harder it gets for everyone else, for everyone else

The happier I am when I'm with you
The harder it gets when I am alone, when I am alone

The harder I try to learn something from you
Further away

Further away feel it fade into your childhood further away
Further away feel dazed and misunderstood
Further away

The stiller the oxygen the harder you breathe
The draining away just like an old man's dream
Just like an old man's dream

The simpler the answer the harder it can get
The circular landscape comes back only with regret
Only with regret

The more estranged I feel from my youth further away

Further away feel it fade into your childhood further away
Further away feel dazed and misunderstood
Further away

Further away feel it fade into your childhood further away
Further away feel dazed and misunderstood
Further away
Further away
Further away
Further away

. . .


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

Embarrassed possessed and so uncivilised
Just take a look at the whites of my eyes
See me now and I will apologise
For me for you we knew they were lies

It makes me angry ashamed but really alive
It may have worked but at what price
What's the point in always looking back
When all you see is more and more junk

It was no surface but all feeling
Maybe at the time it felt like dreaming

Maybe richer maybe wiser
Seems so easy to not go too far
Beg me to stop hate my face I know
They tell me forever just to go

Just one thing before I get to sleep
Nothing here but the stains on my teeth
No not blood just liquid from you
I only wish it was the truth

Feel the guilt of a sinner
Feel the cold of a winter
It was no surface but all feeling

. . .


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