Scott Walker Phrasing
Pain is not alone. P-a-i-n is n-o-t alone. Pain is not a-l-o-n-e. P-a-i-n i-s not alone.
Neath a protein moon in a protein sky, running protein fields with my protein eye.
There's a protein song howling through the meat. Driving protein bods from my protein street.
P-a-i-n i-s n-o-t alone. Pain is not a-l-o-n-e. Pain is not alone. P-a-i-n i-s n-o-t a-l-o-n-e.
From the south the Klan sends roses.
Lymph-lacquered nails hover in waifed autumn sun
for dragging down the back of summer.
From the east come killer poses.
Khuschev's shoe beats a black tattoo
in the middle of the day.
From the north flow floats with quivering virgins,
fresh from frozen catacombs.
Did ya spot the die-cut crosses?
Did ya?
Did ya?
Pain is not alone. P-a-i-n is not alone. Pain i-s not a-l-o-n-e. P-a-i-n is n-o-t alone.
Neath a protein moon in a protein sky, running protein fields with my protein eye.
Here's to a lousy life. Here's to a lousy life. Here's to a lousy life. Here's to a lousy life.
