Faces at a window, fingers clutching at the bars. A fly skips from an
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eyebrow to an elbow, across a scar. And stars are laughing as the
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wind bites - doesn't leave a mark... because the Tower stands
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impregnable - a beacon in the dark.
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And no-one names a crime committed, no-one blames a soul. Their cases
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heard so long ago - forget about parole. And faculties are failing
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because they're really rather old. And sick. And tired, much too
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jaded. How they weep, cos how they hate it.
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Sky dye on her fingers. The air was turning blue, as captain
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whispered, 'Blindfold's optional - you wouldn't like the view! She
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shook her head and shouted back, "I'd like to see this through." Then
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joined the line of hostages - was 13th in the queue.
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Rusty chains and armoured pillows stuffed with silver pins.
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Collecting lives like butterflies, keep them all locked in. Tattoo
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with a star, write a number on the chin... It's not for turning.
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Slowly learning. Stomach churns, the fire's burning... No-one has the
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key to the Tower.
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And if you listen carefully, you'll hear a baby cry. Torn screaming
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from her mother's womb - the lady nearly died. But the torment never
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stops, it's written right across the eyes of George and Jeannie,
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Charlotte, Renie, Uncle Geoff, Cousin Julie, Audrey, Johnny, Andy,
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Mandy, Algernon. And Barbarella, Shelly, Napoleon. Winston, April,
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Philip, Roland, Barry, Sally, Patrick, Me! Me! Mimi...
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-----------------
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Tower One
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| The Legendary Pink Dots |
