Indelicates (The)

Burn All The Photographs
From dust things sprang before, but nothing seems to grow here anymore. Just patient little children waiting for what came before She'd angled the barrel into her chin The last of the face cream still smeared on her skin And the gun in the puddle of blood is no fun 'Cause it's all an illusion, here's a lens Here's the scene Then go over and over the war still unwon Here's a camera, take it, make the world clean! So Burn all the photographs I'll not own anyone I'll throw the hand grenade If you shoot the gun It's what everyone wanted In the long run BURN BURN BURN From things dust sprang before but nothing seems to die here anymore Just dying scrabbling old men waiting at the nursery door He'd practiced his speeches, his gestures, his ease Pictured rehearsing spontaneity And the gun in the puddle of blood is no fun, 'Cause it's all an ambition to take a thing home And the cold in his eye's untouched by anyone But caught by the camera and raised up in stone. Songtexte So Burn all the photographs I'll not own anyone I'll throw the hand grenade If you shoot the gun It's what everyone wanted In the long run BURN BURN BURN Burn all the photographs Destroy the negatives I'll wipe the hard drive If you spill the fixatives Burn down the darkroom Tear all the prints BURN BURN BURN BURN BURN BURN BURN BURN BURN BURN BURN Aus Songtexte Mania