Who'll build a box for Black Paul?
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Ah'm enquirin on behalf of his soul
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Ah'd be beholdin to ya all
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For a lil information, yes some kinda information
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Just who'll dig the hole?
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When ya done ransackin his room
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grabbin anything that shines,
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throw the scrap down on the street
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Like all his books and his notes.
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All the junk that he wrote
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the whole fucken lot right up in smoke
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Aint there nuthin sacred anymore
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Someone will build a box for Black Paul?
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And there shootin off his guns
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and there shootin off their mouths
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saying 'Fuck with us... and die!'
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(Let's see that rat of fear go scuttle in their skulls)
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'Cover that eye! Cover that frozen eye!'
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Black-puppet, in a heap up against the stoning-wall
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Blud-puppet, go to sleep, ma-ma won't scold ya anymore
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Armies of ants, wade up the lil red streams
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they're headin for the mother-pool
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O lord, it's cruel, O man it's hot!
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And some of them ants they yes ilot to the spot
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Who threw the first stone at Black Paul?
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'Don't ack us', say the critics and the hacks
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The pen-pushers and the quacks
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'We jes cum to git dah facks!'
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'We jes cum to git dah facks!'
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Hey,hey,hey,hey...
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Here is the hammer, that build the scaffold,
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and built the box...
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Here is the shovel, that dug the hole,
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in this ground of rocks...
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And here is the pile of stones!
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and for each one planted, God only knows,
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a blud-rose grown...
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These are the true Demon-Flowers!
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These are the true Demon-Flowers!
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Stand back everyone! Blud-black everyone!
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Who'll build a box for Black Paul?
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Who'll carry it up the hill?
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'Not I', said the widow, adjusting his veil
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'Ah will not drive the nail
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Or cart his puppet-body home,
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For ah done that one hundred times before,
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Yeah! ah done that one hundred times or more,
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And why should ah dress his wounds?
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When he has wounded my dress, nighty,
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Right across the floor'
|
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Who'll build a box for Black Paul?
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Who'll carry it up the hill?
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Who'll bury it in the black-soil?
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And from the words and the thickets
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Come the ghosts of his victims
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'We love you!'
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'Ah love you!'
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'and this will not hurt a bit,
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we'll go up,up,up,up,up into Death
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up,up,up,up, inhale its breath
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O yeah, Death favours those that favor Death'
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Here is the stone, and this is the inscription at bare
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'Below Lies Black Paul, Under The Upper...
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But Above and Beyond The Surface-Flat-Fall There.'
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And all the angels come on down,
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And all you men and women crowd around
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And all the widows weeping into their skirts
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And all the lil gals and the lil Boys
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And the scribes with mein-pens parsed
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All the hullaballoo, all the norse
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All the hullaballoo, all the noise
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All the hullaballoo, all of the noise
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clears his throat of black blut
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singin Black Paul like a lonely boy...
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We-e-e-ll, ah have cryed one thousand tears
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Ah've cryed a thousand tears, its true
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And the next stormy night ya know,
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That ah'm still cryin them for you
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Well, ah had a gal she was so sweet,
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Red dress, and long red hair hangin down
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And heaven yes ain't heaven
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Without that lil gal hangin around
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Well, ya know ah've loin a bad-man
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and Lord knows ah dun some good things too
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But ah confess, my soul will never rest
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Until you, until you build
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Until ya build a box for my gal, too.
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|
-----------------
|
A Box For Black Paul
|
| Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds |
