Manic Street Preachers Between The Clock And The Bed

I’m well aware of happiness

And what it takes to get to it

But the simple struggle of survival

Transforms itself into betrayal

Between the clock and the bed

There’s only space and hell

Waiting for the transportation

Between the clock and the bed

Shapes move inside my head

Colliding with shared desperation

Yes I’m as guilty as the rest

A man of little consequence

Unable of forgiving himself

Still building the bypass in my head

Between the clock and the bed

There’s only space and hell

Looking for my intervention

Between the clock and the bed

Shapes move inside my head

We’ve all felt the implications

Hatred and failure go perfectly together

Like the quick and the sand beautiful and damned

I live through these moments again and again

Repeated images of enemies and friends

Manic Street Preachers 4st. 7lbs.

I eat too much to die

And not enough to stay alive

I’m sitting in the middle waiting

Days since I last pissed

Cheeks sunken and despaired

So gorgeous sunk to six stone

Lose my only remaining home

See my third rib appear

A week later all my flesh disappears

Stretching taut, cling-film on bone

I’m getting better

Karen says I’ve reached my target weight

Kate and Emma and Kristin know it’s fake

Problem is diet’s not a big enough word

I wanna be so skinny that I rot from view

I want to walk in the snow

And not leave a footprint

I want to walk in the snow

And not soil its purity

Stomach collapsed at five

Lift up my skirt my sex is gone

Naked and lovely and 5st. 2

May I bud and never flower

My vision’s getting blurred

But I can see my ribs and I feel fine

My hands are trembling stalks

And I can feel my breasts are sinking

Mother trys to choke me with roast beef

And sits savouring her sole Ryvita

That’s the way you’re built my father said

But I can change, my cocoon shedding

I want to walk in the snow

And not leave a footprint

I want to walk in the snow

And not soil its purity

Kate and Kristin and Kit Kat

All things I like looking at

Too weak to fuss, too weak to die

Choice is skeletal in everybody’s life

I choose my choice, I starve to frenzy

Hunger soon passes and sickness soon tires

Legs bend, stockinged I am Twiggy

And I don’t mind the horror that surrounds me

Self-worth scatters, self-esteem’s a bore

I long since moved to a higher plateau

This discipline’s so rare so please applaud

Just look at the fat scum who pamper me so

Yeh 4st. 7, an epilogue of youth

Such beautiful dignity in self-abuse

I’ve finally come to understand life

Through staring blankly at my navel

Manic Street Preachers 1985

In 1985, I placed a bet and lied,

losing all that I had,

at least with all my heart intact.

In 1985, Orwell was proved right,

Torville and Dean’s bolero,

redundant as a sad welsh chapel.

In 1985, in 1985.

So God is dead, like Nietzsche said,

superstition is all we have left.

Circle the wagons, we’re under attack,

we’ve realised there’s no going back,

we’ve realised there’s no going back.

In 1985, the Civil War failed why?,

kept hidden like scars of birth,

nature unable to soften the words.

In 1985, my words they came alive,

friends were made for life,

Morrissey and Marr gave me choice.

In 1985, in 1985.

So God is dead, like Nietzsche said,

only 16 years of age, he said.

See all the tears, for the walking dead,

we’ve realised there’s no going back,

we’ve realised there’s no going back.

In 1985, I placed a bet and lied,

losing all that I had.

Manic Street Preachers Been A Son

She should have stayed away from friends

She should have had more time to spend

She should have died when she was born

She should have worn a crown of thorns

She should have been, been a son

She should have been, been a son

She should have been, been a son

She should have been, been a son

She should have stood out in the crowd

She should have made her mother proud

She should have fallen on her stance

She should have had another chance

She should have been, been a son

She should have been, been a son

She should have been, been a son

She should have been, been a son

She should have stayed away from friends

She should have had more time to spend

She should have died when she was born

She should have worn a crown of thorns

She should have been, been a son

She should have been, been a son

She should have been, been a son

She should have been, been a son

Manic Street Preachers Australia

I don’t know if I’m tired and I don’t know if I’m ill

My cheeks are turning yellow

I think I’ll take another pill

Praying for the wave to come now

It must be for the fifteenth time

I’ve been here for much too long

This is the past that’s mine

I want to fly and run till it hurts

Sleep for a while and speak no words in Australia

I want to fly and run till it hurts

Sleep for a while and speak no words in Australia

In Australia

Praying for the wave to come now

It must be for the very last time

It’s twelve o’clock till midnight

There must be someone to blame

I want to fly and run till it hurts

Sleep for a while and speak no words in Australia

I want to fly and run till it hurts

Sleep for a while and speak no words in Australia

In Australia

Australia, in Australia

I want to fly and run till it hurts

Sleep for a while and speak no words in Australia

In Australia

In Australia

In Australia

Manic Street Preachers Bag Lady

I am not dead

I demand I know my rights

I know my rights

You cover illness with flowers

And flowers die

And flowers die

Waking I feel

I follow mirrors that

Make sense to me

Make sense to me

Never let yourself out, I did

It ruined me

It ruined me

To be morally good

Are we ready to love?

A devil pretending to be a god

Love’s written on paper, and paper burns

Eternity is not sunrise

Waking I feel

I follow mirrors that

Make sense to me,

Make sense to me

Never let your self out, I did

It ruined me

It ruined me

To be morally good

Are we ready to love?

A devil pretending to be a god

Love’s written on paper and paper burns

Eternity is not a sunrise

Manic Street Preachers 30-Year War

It’s the longest running joke

In history

To kill the working classes

In the name of liberty

The lies of Hillsborough

The blood of Orgreave

All the evasion at the BBC

And 30 years of war

To darken all our class

Black propaganda, lies and mistrust

See it in our eyes, the fire dimming away

The old-boy network won the war again

The old-boy network won the war again

The old-boy network won the war again

So you hide all Lowry’s paintings

For 30 years or more

‘Cos he turned down a knighthood

And you must now settle the score

And the endless parade of old Etonian scum

Line the front benches so what is to be done?

All part of the same establishment

I ask you again what is to be done?

I ask you again what is to be done?

I ask you again what is to be done?

These verses at attention stand

Ready for the immortal command

The armies of my pages may never fight again

Happy for the order to meet eternal flame

Blame the poor

Praise the rich

Make the connections

Put them in print

Keep ’em boxed in

Keep ’em kettled in

Create a mistruth

So bewildering

Create a mistruth

So bewildering

Create a mistruth

So bewildering

So you hide all Lowry’s paintings

For 30 years or more

‘Cos he turned down a knighthood

And you must now settle the score

And the endless parade of old Etonian scum

Line the front benches so what is to be done?

All part of the same establishment

I ask you again what is to be done?

I ask you again what is to be done?

I ask you again what is to be done?

So you hide all Lowry’s paintings

For 30 years or more

‘Cos he turned down a knighthood

And you must now settle the score

And the endless parade of old Etonian scum

Line the front benches so what is to be done?

All part of the same establishment

I ask you again what is to be done?

I ask you again what is to be done?

I ask you again what is to be done?

Manic Street Preachers Baby Elian

Blockades won’t win you more votes

A Cuban adjustment act

Offer the world a dream

Dress it up – it’s blackmail

Internal matter they say

For two million dollars a day

Maybe a future in film

But Cuban boxers still win

Kidnapped – to the promised land

The Bay Of Pigs

Or baby Elian

Operation – Peter Pan

America

The Devil’s playground

Baby Elian

Baby Elian

Across the unfair divide

Where black will never meet white

So read my token lips

As if they never exist

You cannot buy a nation

Not even Miami mob

We follow a shining path

That you will never destroy

Kidnapped – to the promised land

The Bay Of Pigs

Or baby Elian

Operation – Peter Pan

America

The Devil’s playground

You don’t just sit in a rocking chair

When you’ve built a revolution

You don’t just sit in a rocking chair

When you’ve built a revolution

Baby Elian

Baby Elian

Manic Street Preachers 4 Lonely Roads

4 lonely roads

The terror it had flown

Never led you home

4 lonely roads

Got sunk into my heart

Then it fell apart

Staring with an idle eye

Measuring the pain inside

Darker hell stood up on high

Then disappeared without reply

4 lonely roads

I’m trapped inside the skin

Can’t let love back in

4 lonely roads

The cities drunk and mute

Lost in your pursuit

(I tell them this)

Staring with an idle eye

Measuring the pain inside

Darker hell stood up on high

Then disappeared without reply

I don’t know why…

(Three …Four…)

And if we can

Then we must

Hold our heads up

Learn to trust

It’s up to you

It’s up to us

Some dignity

A little love

A little love

Manic Street Preachers Auto-Intoxication

The more I want to be me, the less I know myself

The living left to die, while ghosts are brought to life

Welcome to these slave trades

Drained of delusion and buried in debt

How the hell do we find each other suffering auto intoxication

But disaster isn’t coming, it’s already arrived

I am so lucky, I think that I survived

I am what I am, my body belongs to me

My work will set me free and fulfil my dreams

A new economy embraces the ruins

It makes us strong and soothes our fears

Welcome to these slave trades

Drained of delusion and buried in debt

How the hell do we find each other suffering auto intoxication

But disaster isn’t coming, it’s already arrived

I am so lucky, I think that I survived