John Cooper Clarke Thirty-six Hours
36 hours in the mystery chair
36 hours in the quizzical glare
of the naked lights and the visible hardware
another bloke is leaving in a wheelchair
no joke, here comes the punchline
lights out... sack time
steel shoes on the stone cold floor
I hear the screws screaming in the corridor
the bad news and the slammin' of the door
the "what did i do's" and the "what am i here for's"
shades of doubt fall deeper than the slag mine
lights out... sack time
hard cheese and a chest complaint
one man sneezes, another two faint
sufferin' jesus, this ain't my venue
the man through the mesh says it's time to crash
the creeping flesh of a nervous rash
the last man to make a dash
is on the menu
here's the boss with a mouthful of emeralds
a maltese cross and a pocket full of chemicals
jack frost snappin' at the genitals
wash my cosh it's a visit from the general
rule out sub section nine
lights out... sack time
the killer gorilla with the perspex hat
says i say so... and that's that
take out the dog bring back the cat
scrape out the cafeteria rats
stab the rabbit feed the swine lights out... sack time
time flies ... slides down the wall
part of me dies under my overalls
I close my eyes and a woman calls
from a nightmare
The chronic breath of the dead collides
with a rattle of the waste disposal slides
No flowers for the man who dies
in the bombscare
he's in the frigidaire
Freezing in these paper jeans
standing stiff in a dead man's dream
Tobacco barons and the closet queen
walk on the walls... wank in the beans
shave... shit... a shower and a shoe shine
that's it... sack time
everybody looks like Ernest Borgnine
that's it
36 hours on the battery farm
a blindfold and a broken arm
I got the cold shoulder sleepin' in the barn
whose barn... what barn... their barn
The old soldier and his old-world charm
lift that weight, drag that woodbine
lights out mate sackarooni time
lights out... sack time
