John Cooper Clarke Strange Bedfellows
A copper's nark...
The cautious talk of a city under suspicion
A perfumed collision...
With the real meaning of a girl
Working in the dark... from the velvet shadows...
In the... black-wood of engines
YOU'RE in suspension...
In the best of all possible worlds
Furnished rooms...
In tune... with the frozen taste of money
A broken television
Flickers in the corner of one eye
A variety show
That goes below... the freezing point of numbers
To understand... an episode
Of a dream that money can buy
When a necromancer's crucifix...
And fifty dead assistants...
A beer by a dried UP fountain
It's the festival of the spoons: whatever that is
TWO scrumpets dance with rainbow feathers...
On the lines of least resistance...
Into the middle distance...
Of a supermarket tune
Familiar ground...
He stops her breath with the sneak-thief kiss of a roscoe
Love letters from Moscow
Calling for the hard-ware of surprise
In a jealous town...
Where desperation...
Isn't worth the trouble
Meet your double... in an episode...
Of a dream that money can buy
Bye bye love
Say goodnight irene: to the magnetism of the MOMENT
The future fails to feature
Beyond the forcefields of their eyes
Decadant waves: Depraved Danger
Or a plaything of the rodents
Not quite the kind of creature
With whom they socialise
