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Wire
Wire


Background information
Origin London, England
Genre(s) Alternative Rock
Experimental Rock
Post-punk
Punk Rock
Years active 1976—present
Label(s) Mute Records
Website Website
Members
Colin Newman
Graham Lewis
Robert Gotobed
Matt Simms
Former members
Bruce Gilbert
Margaret Fiedler



Music World  →  Lyrics  →  W  →  Wire  →  Albums  →  Chairs Missing

Wire Album


Chairs Missing (1978)
1978
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Practice makes perfect, yes I can prove it
Business or pleasure, the more that you do it

Please dress in your best things, this course was unplanned
'Cos you see up in my bedroom I've got Sarah Bernhardt's hand

Practice makes perfect, I've done this before
Never for money, always for love

Please dress in your best things, and don't make a fuss
'Cos you see up in my bedroom Sarah's waiting for us

. . .


I didn't understand your plea to live
Or the guy's wish to take or give
However, as backing away, he fell and lay dead amongst the fireworks display

It's not quite the way to say your goodbyes
It's not quite the way to behave
Secured you a concrete grave beneath a motorway

Gold scissors cut the ribbon and set them loose
On the opening day the vibrations will shake your bones
I suppose that's just the disadvantage
Of not speaking a second language

(The problems of bad reception resulting in blurred perception)

. . .


Passed to hand, behind the curtain
The letter brings change, now things are uncertain
Hand to hand, the letter moves on
Like a series of shocks, but the contents are known

Oh faint heart, when the letter arrives
You suddenly find things getting life-size

Once the air rang with things unsaid
Now cruel outlines are easily read
Behind the curtain, in the yellow bulb light
The letter reads: I took my own life

. . .


Sailing under a false flag
We're crossing the IDL
Becalmed where no creature lives

Lost, forsaken, cursed

Holed below the water line
A shift in the plimsoll line
Pumps in the engine room

Women and children first

Hysterical, no humour
Sabotage, a rumour
Captain-less and captionless

Injury, hunger, thirst
Reptile, prehensile, servile, editorial, gentile, fatal

. . .


An unwilling sailor adrift from Arctic waters
As the water gets warmer, my iceberg gets smaller

As he pours more petrol on, he feels no fear
As the flames get nearer, his thoughts get clearer

A blue-white polar bear arrives at the end
Diverting his attention, his feelings froze over

I'm only a runaway AWOL at the logical start
Not present in the present, overboard with limited future

And I'm standing alone, still getting a thrill
While the ship is afloat, he's losing his boat

. . .


I've got sand in my joints
I'm counting the grains
And they're so sharp
I'm feeling the pain

I'm like King Canute's daughter
A lamb to the slaughter
My feet in the water
It's not what they think

It's not what it seems

. . .


A dorsal fin breaks the water
Salted meat a sudden relapse
Inference drawn from every word

Being sucked in again

Feeling numbed from anaesthetised flesh
Avoid disgrace, ideas still fresh
The gaping mouth, a fish-wive's dream

Bound and gagged your labour's saved
The cost minute, the rules are waved
No hand, no step, your labour's in vain

. . .


I feel icy
I feel cold
I feel old
Is there something there behind me?
I'm sublime

I feel empty
I feel dark
I remark
I am mesmerised
By my own beat
Like a heartbeat
(In it's own beat)

. . .


Crooks lay in a weighted state waiting for the dead assassin while the rust pure powder puffs, a shimmering opaque red. Papers spread, no-one driving, we hurled direct ahead, the windows dark-green tinted, the hearse a taxi instead. Snow storms forecast imminently in areas Dogger, Viking, Moray, Forth, and Orkney. Keeping cover in denuded scrub, the school destroyed raised the club, panic spreading with threat of fire. Crowding beneath a layer of foam, refugees intertwined, alone. Within the institution walls, in pastel blue, clinical white, slashed red lipsticked walls, mercy nurse tonight. Seems like dark grey stockings in the raking torchlight with 4 AM stubble, a midnight transvestite.

. . .


No blind spots in the leopard's eyes
Can only help to jeopardise
The lives of lambs, the shepherd cries

An outdoor life for a silverfish
Eternal dust less ticklish
Than the clean room, a houseguest's wish

He lies on his side, is he trying to hide?
In fact it's the earth, which he's known since birth

Face worker, a serpentine miner
A roof falls, an underliner
Of leaf structure, the egg timer

. . .


Crawling, over your window, you think I'm confused
I'm waiting for the divergent wasp

To complete my current ruse

You use a plate-glass screen
To protect my chosen target

But there's an air-pellet hole
I can crawl through to you

I am the fly in the ointment
I can spread more disease than the fleas
Which nibble away at your window display
Yes, I am the fly in the ointment
I shake you down to say please as you
Accept the next dose of disease

. . .


Always cause for concern
When you're feeling quite bright
And your filament burns

I feel mysterious today
Everything is humming loudly
I feel mysterious today
Everyone is coming this way

Is it ever appealing
To stand on a ceiling?
Observe the tension grow

Going walking abroad
Minus hat before dawn
Bats in profusion there

Did you ever conceive
That you too can leave
Exactly when you like?

. . .


So truly jolly, an Xmas dolly
I talk on request, I'm never depressed
I'll wink a good time till someone pokes me
One big blue eye out

So simply heady, a birthday teddy
Punches make me bleat, this bare soul is sweet
Keeping you warm at night till someone rubs me
Hey, a fun-filled toy

Free on a tightrope lives the animal soap
Safe, used, been tested, body molester
Amphibious charm, scum in several baths
Has blurred my features

Would you like to say
What that silence was meant to intend?
Would you like to see
What violence these eyes can send
To your heart
From the nursery

. . .


Does the pain remain when the head is turned
And the body walks away? You used to know
Does nausea ensue when you chance upon a memory
Of someone you used to know?
Does warmth increase when the pulse is strong
But the response is weak? You used to know

I just lay down guidelines in front of me
It's similar to the things you do to me

I'll give you an example typically
It's less complicated than it simply should be

. . .


Oh you should miss her, she says she's my sister
She's never hard to find
She's tender-trusting, she's everlasting
Can I change my mind?

Is it too late to change my mind?

Mirror, mirror, icy sister
Love is never blind
She's slowly turning, mouth gently burning
Can I change my mind?

She pisses icy water on poetic mornings
Got to be cruel to be kind
Is this real life, is it for life?
Can I change my mind?

. . .


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