Lyrics
d by the excesses of their ancestors. And close by them, some surreal painter's brooding over the very over-emphasis of colour-violence. Violence on the blue end of the scale. Next to them, two off-duty detectives checking each other out. Next door to the sugarholics, see them shivering, see them staring into the distance, see them growing, oh, see them go comatose. Insulin please, Maitre D'! On my immediate right several politicians smiling lizard-like, see them assure themselves that their status is indeed quo.
Rip up the cheques said the Maitre D'. See if I care. I do this for the company. I've got no-one to trust any secrets to but myself. In the basement, in the vault, in the attic on the walls are the pictures I take in part-payment for my time. And the waitress reminds you that in the backroom bathed in red, glowing with the speed of light that reflects the demands of the living for the dead, are our angels, a host at your service to meet your every need. So order up, the waitress said. Our great caf¨¦ serves everything.
Music Video
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Artist John Cale
Added 19 hours ago
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