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Brian Eno
Brian Eno


Background information
Birth name Brian Peter George Eno
Born May 15, 1948
Born place Woodbridge, Suffolk, England
Genre(s) Experimental Rock
Ambient
Electronic
Art Rock
Glam Rock
Years active 1970—present
Label(s) Astralwerks
Island Records
Virgin Records
Polydor
Rykodisc
Associated acts Coldplay
U2
David Bowie
Roxy Music
Talking Heads
Robert Fripp
Cluster
Devo
David Byrne
Website Website



Music World  →  Lyrics  →  B  →  Brian Eno  →  Albums  →  Taking Tiger Mountain (By Strategy)

Brian Eno Album


Taking Tiger Mountain (By Strategy) (1974)
1974
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When I got back home I found a message on the door
Sweet Regina's gone to China cross-legged on the floor
Of a burning jet that's smoothly flying:
Burning airlines give you so much more.

How does she intend to live when she's in far Cathay?
I somehow can't imagine her just planting rice all day.
Maybe she will do a bit of spying
With micro-cameras hidden in her hair.

I guess Regina's on the plane, a Newsweek on her knees
While miles below her the curlews call from strangely stunted trees.
The painted sage sits just as though he's flying;
Regina's jet disturbs his wispy beard.

When you reach Kyoto send a postcard if you can,
And please convey my fond regards to Chih-Hao's girl Yu-Lan.
I heard a rumor they were getting married
But someone left the papers in Japan.

Left them in Japan, left them in Japan...


. . .



These are your orders, seems like it's do it or die
So please read them closely
When you've learnt them be sure that you eat them up
They're specially flavored with burgundy, Tizer and rye
Twelve sheets of foolscap, don't ask me why.

We hit the jungle just as it starts to monsoon
Our maps showed no rainfall
All the boys were depressed by this circumstance
Trust in the weather to bless agricultural man
Who gives birth to more farmhands, don't ask me why.Lyrics

Fifteen was chosen because he was dumb
Seven because he was blind
I got the job because I was so mean
While somehow appearing so kind
Drifting about through the cauliflower trees
With a cauliflower ear for the birds
The Squadron assembled what senses they had
And this is the sound that they heard

Back at headquarters khaki decisions are made
File under 'Futile', that should give you its main point of reference
It's all so confusing, what with pythons and then deadly flies
But to them it's a picnic, don't ask me why.

Thirteen was chosen because of his luck
Eleven because of his feet
One got signed up for exceptional pluck
Another because he was mute
Roaming about through the gelatin swamps
With a gelatin eye on the stripes
The Squadron assembled what senses they had
And this is the sound that they heard

Back in Blighty, there was you
There were milkmen every morning
But these endless shiny trees
Never used to be that way.
Back in Blighty, there was you
There were milkmen every morning
But these endless shiny trees
Never used to be that way.


. . .



Well, I rang up Pantucci,
Spoke to Lu-chi,
I gave them all
They needed to know.
If affairs are proceeding
As we're expecting,
Soon enough the weak spots will show.
I assume you understand that we have options on your time,
And will ditch you in the harbour if we must:
But if it all works out nicely,
You'll get the bonus you deserve
From doctors we trust.

The Fat Lady of Limbourg
Looked at the samples that we sent
And furrowed her brow.
You would never believe that
She'd tasted royalty and fame
If you saw her now.
But her sense of taste is such that she'll distinguish with her tongue
The subtleties a spectrograph would miss,
LyricsAnd announce her decision,
While demanding her reward:
The jellyfish kiss.

Now we checked out this duck quack
Who laid a big egg, oh so black
It shone just like gold.
And the kids from the city,
Finding it pretty, took it home,
And there it was sold.
It was changing hands for weeks till someone left it by their fire
And it melted to a puddle on the floor:
For it was only a candle, a Roman scandal oh oh oh,
Now it's a pool.
That's what we're paid for
That's what we're paid for
That's what we're paid for here.


. . .


I can think of nowhere I would rather be
Reading morning papers, drinking morning tea:
She clutches the tray
And then we talk just like a kitchen sink play
Nothing ventured, nothing gained.
Living so close to danger,
Even your friends are strangers
Don't count upon their company.

This is for the fingers,
This is for the nails:
Hidden in the kitchen,
Right behind the scales.
What do I care?
I'm wasting fingers like I had them to spare,
Plugging holes in the Zuider Zee.
Punishing Paul for Peter,
Don't ever trust those meters
What you believe is what you see.

In my town, there is a raincoat under a tree.
In the sky, there is a cloud containing the sea.
In the sea, there is a whale without any eyes.
In the whale, there is a man without his raincoat.

In another country, with another name
Maybe things are different, maybe they're the same.

Back on the trail,
The seven soldiers read the papers and mail
But the news, it doesn't change.
Swinging about through creepers,
Parachutes caught on steeples
Heroes are born, but heroes die.
Just a few days, a little practice and some holiday pay,
We're all sure you'll make the grade.
Mother of God, if you care,
We're on a train to nowhere
Please put a cross upon our eyes.
Take me - I'm nearly ready, you can take me
To the raincoat in the sky.
Take me - my little pastry mother take me
There's a pie shop in the sky.

. . .


Monica sighed
Rolled on her side
She was so impressed that she just surrendered

She was moved by his wheels
She was just up from Wales
He was fueled by her coals and he was coming to catch her

Lose the sense of time
Nail down the blinds
And in the succulent dark there's a sense of ending

Joking aside
The mechanical bride
Has fallen prey to the Great Pretender.

Let me just point out discreetly
Though you never learn
All those tawdry late night weepies
I could make you weep more cheaply

As the empty moon enamels
Monica with spoons and candles
Bangs around without the light on
Furniture to get it right on

Settled in a homely fish pool
Hung with little eels
Often thinks that travel widens
'Stay at home, the trout obliges'

Monica sighed
Rolled on to her side
She was so impressed that she just surrendered.

. . .



There are tins
There was pork
There are legs
There are sharks
There was John
There are cliffs
There was Mother
There's a poker
There was you
And then there was you.

There are scenes
There are blues
There are boots
There are shoes
There are Turks
There are fools
They're in lockers
They're in schools
There was you
And then there was you.
Lyrics
I'll
Burn my fingers
Burn my toes
Burn my uncle
Burn his books
Burn his shoes
Cook the leather
Does it fit me
Or you?
It looks tight on you.


. . .


Put a straw under baby
Your good deed for the day
Put a straw under baby
Keep the splinters away.

Let the corridors echo
As the dark places grow
Hear Superior's footsteps
On the landing below.

There's a place in the orchard
Where no one dare go
The last nun who went there
Turned into a crow.

Turned into a crow-crow
Turned into a crow
The last nun who went there
Turned into a crow.

There's a brain in the table
There's a heart in the chair
And they all live in Jesus
It's a family affair.

. . .


We are the 801
We are the central shaft

And we are here to let you take advantage
Of our lack of craft
Certain streets have certain corners
Sooner or later we'll turn your.

We are the 801
We are the central shaft

And thus throughout two years we've crossed the ocean
In our little craft (row, row, row)
Now we're on the telephone
Making final arrangements (ding, ding)

We are the 801
We are the central shaft

Looking for a certain ratio
Someone must have left it underneath the carpet
Looking up and down the radio
Oh, oh, nothing there this time
Looking for a certain ratio
Someone said they saw it parking in a car lot
Looking up and down the radio
Oh, oh, nothing there this time
Going back down to the rodeo
Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, here we go!

We are the table the captain's table let's get it understood
Let's get it understood
We are the losers we are the cruisers let's get it understood
Let's get it understood
We are the diners the final diners let's get it understood
Let's get it understood
Most of us are tinkers, some of us tailors
And we've got candlesticks and lots of cocktail sticks
We saw the lovers the modern lovers and they looked very good
They looked as if they could
We are the neighbours the nosy neighbours we think just like you would
We think just like you should.

. . .



In the haze of the morning, china sits on eternity
And the opium farmers sell dreams to obscure fraternities
On the horizon the curtains are closing

Down in the orchard the aunties and uncles play their games
(like it seems they always have done)
In the blue distance the vertical offices bear their names
(like it seems they always have done)
Clocks ticking slowly, dividing the day up

These poor girls are such fun they know what God gave them fingers for
(to make percussion over solos)

China my china, I've wandered around and you're still here
(which I guess you should be proud of)
Your walls have enclosed you, have kept you at home for thousands of years
(but there's something I should tell you)
All the young boys are dressing like sailors

I remember a man who jumped out from a window over the bay
(there was hardly a raised eyebrow)
The coroner told me 'this kind of thing happens every day
You see, from a pagoda, the world is so tidy.


. . .


We climbed and we climbed,
Oh, how we climbed
My, how we climbed
Over the stars to (the) top
(Of) Tiger Mountain
Forcing the lines through the snow.

. . .


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