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Read (Discography): 17 Feb 1978, West Runton Pavilion

(Please note: lyrics taken from studio albums, where available. Live versions may vary.)


The race of champions, the pace the pace
The speed the need, the need to seed
The chance to die

Another dead don't cry, another dead don't cry
You've still got speed, you'll maybe bleed
But that's next time

Less time than before, more speed than before
You're rich not poor, what are you doing it for?
Want more, want more

Another dead don't cry, another dead don't cry
Indeed it's speed, to feed from speed

Doing it all the time

Ex-Lion Tamer

There's great danger
For the loneliest ranger of all
No silver bullets
Tonto's split the scene

Next week will solve your problems
But now, fish fingers all in a line
The milk bottles stand empty
Stay glued to your TV set

There's great danger
At hand most caped crusader of all
No cloak of justice
Robin's flown the nest

Options R

If you keep on repeating, repeating the words
It becomes increasing, increasingly absurd

It's so L-O-V-I-N-G

I'm intending to


I thought I was in, but now I'm trying to get out
I'm learning the twist, ignoring the shouts
It's so A-D-O-R-I-NG
I'm enquiring

My options are open and it's limiting me
Things are so trying, so trying for me
It's so T-R-Y-Y-Y-YING
I'm spying

106 Beats That

If he had a room, he'd paint it white,
survives the day, prefers the night,
build slight

Got a head for figures
No time for bicker(er)s
(Or so he says)
Prefers the company of a woman

Finds it more physical (that's an important word),
always seen first then heard,
such a rare bird

With praise he glows, with change he grows, finds that important, hates waiting, it's not stimulating, likes celebrating, I can't understand why that is so funny, that is sex


Our own correspondent is sorry to tell
Of an uneasy time that all is not well

On the borders there's movement
In the hills there is trouble
Food is short, crime is double

Prices have risen since the government fell
Casualties increase as the enemy shell
The climate's unhealthy, flies and rats thrive
And sooner or later the end will arrive

This is your correspondent, running out of tape
Gunfire's increasing, looting, burning, rape

Three Girl Rhumba

Think of a number, divide it by two,
something is nothing, nothing is nothing.
Open a box, tear off the lid,
then think of a number, don't think of an answer.
Open your eyes, think of a number,
don't get swept under, a number's a number

A chance encounter you want to avoid, the inevitable,
so you do, oh yes you do the impossible

Now you ain't got a number, you just want to rhumba,
and there ain't no way you're gonna go under

Go under

I Am The Fly

Crawling, over your window, you think I'm confused
I'm waiting for the divergent wasp

To complete my current ruse

You use a plate-glass screen
To protect my chosen target

But there's an air-pellet hole
I can crawl through to you

I am the fly in the ointment
I can spread more disease than the fleas
Which nibble away at your window display
Yes, I am the fly in the ointment
I shake you down to say please as you
Accept the next dose of disease

Oh No, Not So

Uh oh, he said he was a neighbour
Not so, waiting for a saviour
Uh oh, is anyone in labour?
Not so, waiting for a saviour

You never thought (didn't think) that help would arrive in time
You're a sad one, such a sad one
You didn't think that beauty can but end in time
You've a bad time with (in) the pipeline

They said it was a raper
And then he tried to knife her
Uh oh, you should have read the paper
Not dumb, waiting for a saviour

You didn't think that time could drag so slow
Feel him heaving, feel like screaming
Now the lights are starting as your pulse lets go
Now your bullet, save the bullet


There's something strange going on tonight
Something going on that's not quite right
Joey's nervous and the lights are bright
There's something going on that's not quite right

There's something going down that wasn't here before
Keep your eyes glued to the floor
No one's gonna save your life
Something strange is going on tonight


It's true darling, I'll walk you home, I'll be your date forever
I love you girl, I love you, until they split the atom

So many times there's nothing left, there's nothing left at all
I know I'm right, 'cause when you're gone, there's nothing left at all

Left, right, salute

Culture Vultures

What we do is what we do
No more no less, to hear to view
To see straight through. In a roundabout way
Circle slowly while we play
Which the hunter, whom the prey

Dragged down in open country
Struck down in fullest flight
Back break at daybreak, falling at midnight
Victim of the culture vultures, no chance they won't pick me
They've got no stomach, yet they talk of bravery

What we are is what we are
No more no less, below or par
To feather and tar? On the appropriate day
Circle slowly while we play
Who will praise? Who will prey?

Cornered in a silent place
Choked by the conditioned air
Headache as eyes awake, stricken at sunrise
Victim of the culture vultures, no chance they won't pick me
They've got no stomach, yet they talk of bravery


The time is too short but never too long
to reach ahead, to project the image,
which will in time become a concrete dream.

Another cigarette, another day,
from A to B, again avoiding C, D, and E,
'cos E is where you play the blues.
Avoiding a death is to win the game,
to avoid relegation, the big E.

Drowning in the big swim, rising to the surface

The smell of you
That's the lowdown

It's The Motive

Patches of fog in the wilderness
Patches of fog in the wilderness
So did he tell the truth
Or was he forced to confess
Under such duress

It's never the lie
It's the motive
Patches of fog in the wilderness
Patches of fog in the wilderness
She just promised me
Which shows a loneliness
The sonic chess

Patches of fog in the wilderness
Patches of fog in the wilderness
Sincerely voiced
Or was it forced to confess
Emotional progress

Practice Makes Perfect

Practice makes perfect, yes I can prove it
Business or pleasure, the more that you do it

Please dress in your best things, this course was unplanned
'Cos you see up in my bedroom I've got Sarah Bernhardt's hand

Practice makes perfect, I've done this before
Never for money, always for love

Please dress in your best things, and don't make a fuss
'Cos you see up in my bedroom Sarah's waiting for us


You're a waste of space
No natural grace
You're so bloody thin
You don't even begin

To interest me, not even curiosity
It's not animosity, it's just you don't interest me

You're an energy void
A black hole to avoid
No style no heart
You don't even start

Pink Flag

I was sold up the river to the red slave trade
The stores were gathered, the plans were laid
Synchronised watches at 18:05
How many dead or alive in 1955?

The pink flag was screaming, bugle boys sucked and blew
No time for confessions, orders given
Books were cooked on the 4th of the 3rd
How many seen or heard on the 12th of the 3rd?

How many dead or alive?


An unwilling sailor adrift from Arctic waters
As the water gets warmer, my iceberg gets smaller

As he pours more petrol on, he feels no fear
As the flames get nearer, his thoughts get clearer

A blue-white polar bear arrives at the end
Diverting his attention, his feelings froze over

I'm only a runaway AWOL at the logical start
Not present in the present, overboard with limited future

And I'm standing alone, still getting a thrill
While the ship is afloat, he's losing his boat

Love Ain't Polite

I say, love ain't polite
It's not just a thing to write songs about
Playing guitar, bearing a face that reeks of sincerity
Recognise that life has a bigger beat
Go in the back door, you don't get affected
I'm sorry, it's true, but someone should give you
A kick where it hurts, stupid flirts
Many faces [?] ability
Too much, too soon, take the beat, positive
[Technically?] make you all behave yourself
I say, ba ba ba...
Oh, love ain't polite

Sand In My Joints

I've got sand in my joints
I'm counting the grains
And they're so sharp
I'm feeling the pain

I'm like King Canute's daughter
A lamb to the slaughter
My feet in the water
It's not what they think

It's not what it seems


Saw you in a mag (smoking a fag), kissing a man

I got you in a corner (cottage), got you in a corner


Too Late

Oh you should miss her, she says she's my sister
She's never hard to find
She's tender-trusting, she's everlasting
Can I change my mind?

Is it too late to change my mind?

Mirror, mirror, icy sister
Love is never blind
She's slowly turning, mouth gently burning
Can I change my mind?

She pisses icy water on poetic mornings
Got to be cruel to be kind
Is this real life, is it for life?
Can I change my mind?