The Bad Seeds are: Mick Harvey, Blixa Bargeld and Barry Adamson.
                          (+ Hugo Race as a guest on this LP)

 1. Avalanche         (Leonard Cohen) %
 2. Cabin Fever!      (Cave/Bargeld)
 3. Well Of Misery    (Cave)
 4. From Her To Eternity (Cave/Anita Lane/Bargeld/Race/Adamson/Harvey)
 5. In The Ghetto     (M. Davies) %
 6. The Moon Is In The Gutter (Cave) %
 7. Saint Huck        (Cave)
 8. Wings Off Flies   (Cave/Sutcliffe/Thirlwell)
 9. A Box For Black Paul (Cave)
10. From Her To Eternity (version from *Wings of Desire* by Win Wenders)




The Captain's fore-arm like buncht-up rope
with A-N-I-T-A wrigglin free onto skull'n'dagger
and a portrait of Christ, nailed to an anchor
etched into the upper...
Slams his fucken tin-dish down
Our Captain, takes time to crush
Some Bloo-Bottles glowin in his gruel
with a lump in his throat, and lumpy mush
Thumbing a scrap book stuck up with clag
and a morbid lump of Love in his flag.
Done is the Missing, now all that remain
Is to sail forever, upon the stain
Cabin Fever! O o o' Cabin Fever!

The captain's free-hand is a clearer
which he fashions his beard'n'he rations his jerkey!
and carves his peg onto the finest mahagony!
Or was it Ebony? etc...

Tallys up his loneliness, notch by notch
For the sea offers nuthin to hold or touch
Notch by notch, winter by winter
Notch x notch, winter x winter

Now his leg is whittled, right down to a splinter
O o Cabin Fever! O o o Cabin Fever!
O the rollin sea still rollin on!
She's everywhere! now that she's gone! Gone! Gone!
O Cabin Fever! O Cabin Fever!

Welcome to his table, Beloved-Unconscious
Raisin her host of hair from her crooks
and strugglin to summony one of her looks!
His arm now like coild s-s-s-snakes
Whips all the bottles that he's drunken,
like crystal-skittles about the cabin,
of a ship they'd bin sailing

Five years sunken... etc...




Along crags and sunless cracks I go
Up rib of rock, donw spine of stone
I dare not slumber where the right winds whistle
Lest her creeping-soul clutch this heart of thistle

O the same God that abandon'd her
Has in turn abandon'd me
And softenin' the turf with with my tears
I dug a Well of Misery

And, in that Well of Misery
Hangs a bucket fulla Sorrow
Which swings slow an' achin' like a bell
Its toll is dead and hollow

Down that well lies the long-lost dress
of my lil floatin girl
That muffles a tear that you let fall
All down that Well of Misery

Put ya shoulder to the handle, if ya dare
and hoist that bucket, hither
Crank'n'hoist'n'hoist'n'crank
Till ya muscles waste'n'wither

O the same God that abandon'd her
Has in turn abandon'd me
Deep in the Desert of Despair
I wait at the Well of Misery




Ah wanna tell ya 'bout a girl
You kno, she lives in Am. 29
Why... that's the one right up top a mine
Ah start to cry, Ah start to cry

O ah hear her walkin
Walkin barefoot cross the floor-boards
All thru this lonesome night
And ah hear her crying too.
Hot-tears come splashin on down
Leaking thru the cracks,
Down upon my face, ah catch'em in my mouth!
Walk'n'cry Walk'n'cry-y!!!

>From her to eternity!
>From her to eternity!
>From her to eternity!

Ah read her diary on her sheets
Scrutinizin every lil piece of dirt
Tore out a page'n'stufft it inside my shirt
Fled outa the window,
And shinning it down the vine
Outa her night-mare, and back into mine
Mine! O Mine!

>From her to eternity!
>From her to eternity!
>From her to eternity!
Cry! Cry! CRY!

She's wearing them bloo-stockens, ah bet!
and standin like this with my ear to the ceiling
Listen ah kno it must sound absurd
but ah can hear the most melancholy sound
ah ever heard!
Walk'n'cry! Kneel'n'cry-y!

>From her to eternity!
>From her to eternity!

O tell me why? Why? Why?
Why the ceiling still shakes?
Why the fixtures turn to serpants snakes?

This desire to possess her is a wound
and its naggin at me like a shrew
but, ah kno, that to possess her
Is, therefore, not to desire her.

O o o then ya kno, that lil girl would just have to go!
Go! Go-o-o! From her to eternity!




Born of the river,
Born of its never-changing, never-changing murky water
Huck standing like a Saint, upon its deck
If ya wanna catch a Saint,
then bait ja hook, let's take a walk...

'O come to me!, O come to me!' is what the dirt-irty
say to Huck... HUCK

woah-woah, woah woah!
Saint Huck! Huck!

Straight in the arms of the city goes Huck,
down the heckoning streets of op-po-tunity
whistling his favorite river-song...
And a bad-bline-nigger at the piano
Buts a sinister-bloo-lilt to that sing-a-long
Huck senses somthing's wrong!

Sirens wail in the city,
and lil-Ulysses turn to putty
Ol man River's got a bone to pick!
Our boys hardly got a bone to suck!
He go, woah-woah, woah woah!
Saint Huck! Huck!

The mo-o-o-on, its huge cycloptic eye
watches the city streets contract
twist and cripple and crack.
Saint Huck goes on a dog's-leg now
Saint Huck goes on a dog's-leg now

Why, you know the story!
Ya wake up one morning and ya find your a thug
blowing smoke fings in some dive
Ya fingers hot and itchin, cracking ya knuckles
Ya bull neck briseting...
Still Huck he ventures on whistling,

and Death reckons Huckleberry's time is up,
O woah woah woah!
Saint Huck! Huck!
Yonder go Huck, minus pocket-watch an' wallet gone
Skin shrinks wraps his skeleton
No wonder he got thinner, not, with his cold'n'skinny dinners!
Saint Huck-a-Saint Elvis, Saint Huck-a-Saint Elvis
O you recall the song ya used to sing-a-long
Shifting the river-trade on that ol' steamer
Life is only a dream!

But ya trade in the Mighty ol' man River
for the Dirty ol' Man Latrine!
The brothel shift
The hustle'n'the bustle and the green-backs rustle
And all the sexy-cash
And the randy-cars
And the two dollar fucks
O o o ya onto luck, onto luck
Woah-woah-woah-woah
Saint Huck! Huck!




She loves me, she loves me not
She loves me, she loves me not
We-e-ll, ah've spent seven days and seven nights
tryin to get sunk in this brine
Don't turn on ya water-works
'cause ah got me a pair of water-wings, right?!

Insects suicide against the window,
and my heart goes out to those lil flies
There's a buggin in my ear
but it's more of her black-mail, ham shakespeare + her
Wings off Flies, She loves me, she loves me not.
O o o o oh she loves me not!!

Lord, Ah've discovered the recipe of Heaven
ya git solitude and mix with sanctuary and silence,
then bake it!
Listen, I plead guilty to misanthropy
so hang me! Ah'd appreciate it!!
Witness her gate-crash my tiny hell
with some obscene tete-a-lete,
If ya wanna talk to me about Love'n'Pain
consult my ulcer, A'd be happy to co-operate
Wings off Flies, she loves me, loves me not
Ey, Joe! another outa do the job.

Time to drown our lil fire, ya can keep the ashes,
Now bye bye, bye, bye, see ya in a pigs eye!
Ah will be one, in need of no-one
In this, my deepest dive...
Filler up, Joe...

Hey! Ah am obliged! Ah am olbiged!
Wings off Flies, She loves me, she loves me not
Wings off Flies etc... ad infinitum




Who'll build a box for Black Paul?
Ah'm enquirin on behalf of his soul
Ah'd be beholdin to ya all
For a lil information, yes some kinda information
Just who'll dig the hole?
When ya done ransackin his room
grabbin anything that shines,
throw the scrap down on the street
Like all his books and his notes.
All the junk that he wrote
the whole fucken lot right up in smoke
Aint there nuthin sacred anymore
Someone will build a box for Black Paul?
And there shootin off his guns
and there shootin off their mouths
saying 'Fuck with us ... and die!'
(Let's see that rat of fear go scuttle in their skulls)
'Cover that eye! Cover that frozen eye!'

Black-puppet, in a heap up against the stoning-wall
Blud-puppet, go to sleep, ma-ma won't scold ya anymore

Armies of ants, wade up the lil red streams
they're headin for the mother-pool
O lord, it's cruel, O man it's hot!
And some of them ants they yes ilot to the spot
Who threw the first stone at Black Paul?

'Don't ack us', say the critics and the hacks
The pen-pushers and the quacks
'We jes cum to git dah facks!'
'We jes cum to git dah facks!'
Hey,hey,hey,hey...

Here is the hammer, that build the scaffold,
and built the box...
Here is the shovel, that dug the hole,
in this ground of rocks...
And here is the pile of stones!
and for each one planted, God only knows,
a blud-rose grown...
These are the true Demon-Flowers!
These are the true Demon-Flowers!
Stand back everyone! Blud-black everyone!

Who'll build a box for Black Paul?
Who'll carry it up the hill?

'Not I', said the widow, adjusting his veil
'Ah will not drive the nail
Or cart his puppet-body home,
For ah done that one hundred times before,
Yeah! ah done that one hundred times or more,
And why should ah dress his wounds?
When he has wounded my dress, nighty,
Right across the floor'

Who'll build a box for Black Paul?
Who'll carry it up the hill?
Who'll bury it in the black-soil?
And from the words and the thickets
Come the ghosts of his victims
'We love you!'
'Ah love you!'
'and this will not hurt a bit,
we'll go up,up,up,up,up into Death
up,up,up,up, inhale its breath
O yeah, Death favours those that favor Death'

Here is the stone, and this is the inscription at bare
'Below Lies Black Paul, Under The Upper...
But Above and Beyond The Surface-Flat-Fall There.'

And all the angels come on down,
And all you men and women crowd around
And all the widows weeping into their skirts
And all the lil gals and the lil Boys
And the scribes with mein-pens parsed
All the hullaballoo, all the norse
All the hullaballoo, all the noise
All the hullaballoo, all of the noise
clears his throat of black blut
singin Black Paul like a lonely boy...

We-e-e-ll, ah have cryed one thousand tears
Ah've cryed a thousand tears, its true
And the next stormy night ya know,
That ah'm still cryin them for you

Well, ah had a gal she was so sweet,
Red dress, and long red hair hangin down
And heaven yes ain't heaven
Without that lil gal hangin around

Well, ya know ah've loin a bad-man
and Lord knows ah dun some good things too
But ah confess, my soul will never rest
Until you, until you build
Until ya build a box for my gal, too.


Популярность: 38, Last-modified: Sat, 05 Oct 1996 07:31:56 GmT