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XTC Album


Beeswax: Some B-Sides 1977-1982 (1982)
1982
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Awful plastic boots that come above her ankle
Dayglo mini skirts just like a pop art spangle
Digs Vanilla Fudge, buys lipstick by the pound
Gets that 'English' look resembles Kath McGowan

Have you seen her hair it's a style from heaven
Ah! she's nowhere she thinks this is 1967?
She's so square she's nowhere
She's so square she's nowhere

Take her to a disco and screaming Lord Sutch it!
Everyone must look but nobody must touch
Have you seen her car? E type is the latest
How about the Yardbirds? Jeff Beck is the greatest!!

Have you seen her hair it's a style from heaven
Ah! she's nowhere she thinks this is 1967?
She's so square she's nowhere
She's so square she's nowhere

Take her to a disco and screaming Lord Sutch it!
Everyone can look but nobody must..
Have you seen her car? E type is the latest
How about the Yardbirds? Jeff Beck is the...

Have you seen her hair it's a style from heaven
Ah! she's nowhere she thinks this is 1967?
She's so square she's nowhere
She's so square she's nowhere

. . .


Watch them go one two three
I'm so happy and so is she
In a 'Danceband'
Show slow Quick quick slow
Heel to hell and toe to toe
In a 'Danceband'

You can do the bossa nova
'Till the night is through
You know Gay Gordon
You can meet him too
But when you hear that tune
One and one make two
Don't step on my toes
Don't step on my toes

Watch them go one two three
I'm so happy and so is she
In a 'Danceband'
Show slow Quick quick slow
Heel to hell and toe to toe
In a 'Danceband'

You can do the bossa nova
'Till the night is through
You know Gay Gordon
You can meet him too
But when you hear that tune
One and one make two
Don't step on my toes
Don't step on my toes

You can do the bossa nova
'Till the night is through
You know Gay Gordon
You can meet him too
But when you hear that tune
One and one make two
Don't step on my toes
Don't step on my toes

I'm in a 'Danceband'
I'm in a 'Danceband'
I'm in a 'Danceband'
I'm in a 'Danceband'

Show slow Quick quick slow
Show slow Quick quick slow
Show slow Quick quick slow
Show slow Quick quick slow
Quick quick!

. . .


When we're laying in bed
And we're laying in love
You and the blackness
Fit me like a velvet glove
That's why I go crazy
When you flick on your lamp
I'm dreaming

Hang on to the night
Hang on to the night
Hang on to the night
I don't want to see
That dawn light
Burn your window

When we're feeling drunk
In a city park
Put away that torch
I'm changed in the dark

. . .


She likes it hot
she likes a tan
she steals my infra red when I'm gone
oh no can it be
we're heading for a heatwave

Her legs are brown
a trace of rust
she's in love with a MKII deluxe
oh no can it be we're heading for a heatwave

Her hair is bleached like it's been boiled
she browns herself in a sea of olive oil
and I come around and she's relaxing
in the conservatory

. . .


Instant tunes only just been made
Instant songs never to be played
Instant tunes hanging out to dry
Let me try to introduce you to

Instant tunes
Instant tunes
Instant tunes
Instant tunes

Ever and ever will they give us pleasure
their instant, still instant
Like mother used to make it -- oh!

Instant tunes give instant cash
Make me want to start a backlash
Let me have the recipe
And make me some lovely, lovely

Instant tunes
Instant tunes
Instant tunes
Instant tunes

Ever and ever will they give us pleasure
their instant, still instant
Like mother used to make it -- oh!

Ever and ever will they give us pleasure
their instant, still instant
Like mother used to make it -- oh!

Instant tunes give instant cash
Make me want to start a backlash
Let me have the recipe
And make me some lovely, lovely

Instant tunes
Instant tunes
Instant tunes
Instant tunes

. . .


Pulsing pulsing,
There's a beat in his arm still.
Pulsing pulsing,
Like the throb of an anthill.
Pulsing pulsing,
No death in the rain.
I've been washing my hands,
In the stuff I wash my brains.

I'm pulsing.
You're pulsing.
Who's pulsing?.
What's pulsing?.

Pulsing pulsing,
There's a lump in his throat still.
Pulsing pulsing,
At the site of a crash throw.
Pulsing pulsing,
No push in the vein.
I've been washing my hands,
In the stuff I wash my brains.

. . .


Don't lose your temper
Don't lose your temper
Don't lose your temper
'Cause I love you when you're wild
Don't lose your temper
Don't lose your temper
Don't lose your temper
'Cause I'd hate you to grow mild

Since you took that job with a company
You've changed so much you just won't recognise me
They have you dressed up like a secretary
You mustn't change the things that make you what you are

Since you've been listening to that linguaphone
You're speaking in a voice that is not your own
I'm not sure if it's you when I call home
You mustn't change the things that make you what you are

Whatever happened to my fighting, biting, lightning lioness
Little girl, little girl, little girl, little girl
I think I preferred it when your hair was in a mess
Brittle girl, brittle girl
They're not your real curls

Don't lose it
Don't lose it
Don't lose it
Don't lose it

. . .


I'm living in my smokeless zone
My house is not a happy home
I got to do something 'fore I kick the bucket
I'm living in this smokeless zone
I clean my dusty windowsills
Everything I grow it kills
I don't want to stay in this street any longer
living in this smokeless zone
England's green, once so pleasant land
living on a time bomb yeah
The whole damn place is going to turn to sand
Bah bah
I cough upon my wheezy chest
my penicillin does its best
There's only one cure for an unhealthy body
get out of this smokeless zone

. . .


Untie the gown, float to the ground
She revolve round, making no sound
Air leaving slow
Still breathing though

Decaying through brown, diving she's bound
Hours swum down, treasure unfound
Air leaving slow
Still breathing though

Somnambulist
Somnambulist
Somnambulist
Somnambulist
Air leaving slow
Still breathing though

. . .


When your love's flown out the window,
And the pain comes through the door.
Once again you've missed the boat,
And you're stranded on the shore.
And you find out that what you had,
Was never yours at all,
Friends and lovers that you knew so well,
Will never take your calls.

So,
You blame the weather,
oh-oh,
Blame the weather,
oh-oh,
Blame the weather,
oh-oh
Can't you see you're in your prime?
You're turning creases into lines.

If you play the game
You've got to be prepared to take a knock,
You get put down so many times,
But you keep on getting up.
So put your tears away,
And don't forget to worry is a crime,
Nothing bears thinking about too much,
You'll be old before your time.

So,
You blame the weather,
oh-oh,
Blame the weather,
oh-oh,
Blame the weather,
oh-oh
Can't you see you're in your prime?
You're turning creases into lines.

The pool of tears you left to drown in,
The helping hands that never came,
The years you lost out to another,
All up in flames

So,
You blame the weather,
oh-oh,
Blame the weather,
oh-oh,
Blame the weather,
oh-oh
Can't you see you're in your prime?
You're turning creases into lines.

. . .


I shout this,
You shout that,
The clouds are coming over looking awful black.
It's all hot air.

You say go,
I say stay,
Clear blue sky goes Sheffield grey.
It's all hot air.

I've grown immune to your claws,
Pussycat, I know...

All your threats are tissue tigers,
Crawling across the table to me.
All your threats are tissue tigers,
Ripping 'em up is easy for me now.

I shout this,
You shout that,
An eye for heart and a tit for a tat.
You easy tear.

Think your stripes,
Are yellow and black,
I can only see the yellow one down your back,
You easy tear.

I've grown immune to your claws,
Pussycat, I know...

All your threats are tissue tigers,
Crawling across the table to me.
All your threats are tissue tigers,
Ripping 'em up is easy for me now.

We argue all life long,
You'd swear that black was wrong,
Throw tantrums like Queen Kong,
I've trapped you in my song.

All your threats are tissue tigers,
Crawling across the table to me.
All your threats are tissue tigers,
Ripping 'em up is easy for me now.

. . .


Gather 'round!

Punch and Judy,
Did it truly,
And were married in a haste,
In love, maybe,
Using the baby,
as a kind of romance paste,
She's grown fatter,
Her hair cut shorter,
Looks much older than nineteen,
He's a drinker,
Not a thinker,
Baby spoiled his could-have-been.

This must be make-believe,
This must be make-believe,
This must be make-believe,
'Cause who do we know, dear, who acts like that?

Punch and Judy.

Punch and Judy,
In a semi,
On a brand new council plot,
Sunday lunchtime,
Beer-for-Punch time,
While his dinner's far from hot,
She grows tired,
Cab is hired,
She goes round to see her friend,
He comes back late,
Fool is irate,
We will see his temper bend.

This must be make-believe,
This must be make-believe,
This must be make-believe,
'Cause who do we know, dear, who acts like that?

Punch and Judy,
In a quandary,
She's walked out, and he is mad.
Now he's grown up,
Can't smash home up,
Retribution must be had.
Punch and Judy,
Had a baby,
Who brought them to married bliss.
Mr Punch,,
Has drunken hunch,
That he must punish kid for this

This must be make-believe,
This must be make-believe,
This must be make-believe,
'Cause who do we know, dear, who acts like that?

Punch and Judy

. . .


Heaven is paved with broken glass,
Since your hammer struck my heart,
This world, a hell of trees and grass.
All is wrong like north gone south,
There's a bad taste in my mouth.

Everything was stars,
'Til you had a notion to leave,
Beauty marks turned to scars,
Bet you had a laugh up your sleeve.

Congratulations love, love, love, love.
You made a fool of me and physics.

Heaven is paved with broken glass,
Since your hammer struck my heart,
This world, a hell of trees and grass.
All is wrong like north gone south,
There's a bad taste in my mouth.

Everything was gold,
'Til you thought you were above me,
Soldier turns to rogue,
Pretty turns to pretty ugly.

Congratulations love, love, love, love,
You made a fool of me and physics.

And I'm feeling cheated,
And I'm feeling used,
And what's even worse is,
You just look amused.

Heaven is paved with broken glass,
Since your hammer struck my heart,
This world, a hell of trees and grass.
Since your hammer struck my heart.

Heaven is paved with broken glass.

. . .


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