The Race Is About To Begin
作词 : Geordie Greep
作曲 : Cameron Picton/Geordie Greep/Morgan Simpson
Idiots are infinite
And thinking men are numbered
Don’t kid yourself
This isn’t news
Let’s start with Tristan Bongo, alone in the race
Conscription calling his name
One more night of freedom
An heiress high up atop the stands
And the lines are open
That’s Lucky Star, Eye Sore, Doctor Murphy, Sun Tzu
The Clap, Mr. Winner, Spot, Wallace, Mrs. Gonorrhoea
Perfect P, Deadman Walking, and The Company Favourite
A son hands dad’s hard earned cash to the clerk
And she laughs at the gall of the small guido lips
“Put it all on Spot, the kid’s already won”
John Tyler smeared with last nights beer
Reflect vomiting Chris who dreams his dream is near
In the form of Mrs. Gonorrhea
Reporter reporting the state of affairs
Inwardly asks of his prime time hair
Why it can’t quite rival the manes on these mares
The smoothness can’t compare
The gleaming appliances attract attention
The raffle prizes too many to mention
Displayed all over the stadium entrance
Hypodermic needles
Hidden under a coat sleeves
Of sweaty wise-guy money earning men
In search of the horse to apprehend
The race is about to begin
The race is about to begin
Blondie locked in 4 Eyes’ arms
Squirming like a dying fish
That’s the last I can recall
The race was ran
Someone lost, someone won
I came and I stayed and the same ever since
Outside
The freaks of the wilderness, open in spring
The time before time was the time to sing
Unidentified song surging through the brush
Transcription futile, let alone the rush
You miss when hunched and scribbling notes
Here no journalism is ever in vogue
Despite the attempts of doctors and saints
None have recorded its heavenly grace
But I stayed, and stayed, and stayed
That race was ran thirty years back
And each day since the same
Peel back the witness of a million catastrophes
To see the spotty remnants each has left
I forget in which cups I’ve pissed
From which I can still drink
Tonight it’s so cold my feet are shrinking
Groping around for the sides of my boot
It’s no night for the blind
With all these sirens I envy the deaf mutes
Some killer on the loose again
Some idiot at large
Some Chinese moose again
An excuse for the sarge
No sirens all silent
The log cabin's silent
No killer either
No creeks in the floor
Log cabin, what cabin?
A shack’s all I have
Yes, my cubbyhole’s stuffed with skeletons
But my neighbours are stuffed with anthrax
Where does that leave us?
I came thirty years back
From Salafessien, via South Schlagenheim
To Sunterum and Sunterime
The late Sun Sugar’s home town
Buried not far from here
My only friend
Neighbor, what neighbor?
My shack is all alone
This pen, changing lines
One line at a time
Blindness? What blindness? Sweet blindness
A little laughter, a little silence
A little magic, a little kindness
A little all over me, yes me
The first, the last, the everything
No trace of anything
No sin, no life, no fun, no time, no any-****ing-thing
No one, no yes, no house, no shack, no A, no B, no C, no et cetera
No one, no two, no et cetera
No school, no life, no work, no time, no book, no art, no point, no truth, no use, no friend
No know, no knot, no hole, no birth, no end, no real, no fake
No king of this useless nameless non-land
No end to this nothing nonsense non-song
No day set for my saviors arrival, to carry me far
Across green waters, above the sky or below the depths
Among the white cloud or red steppe
Or to fly forever in-between ends
Or in-between in-betweens
Or in-between no-between
Or no nothing, no saviour, no journey, no end
A thousand years of no nothing hiding from nothing
No reason to hide sins or reason not to sin
No reason to pretend
No reason to pretend there is not no reason
Oh, yes
Blondie ran on the track
4 Eyes got stuck in the rail
The reporter was caught getting sweaty in the stable
Blondie gone, 4 Eyes gone, Guidos gone, Clerk gone, Chris gone
Tristan Bongo the man who never left
Tristan Bongo never left
Still here
I stayed
The clown can be a martyr
The whore can be an angel
The hack becomes a master
The crass becomes divine
The infinite, infinitesimal
And all sins irrepressible
No use digging holes to hide
The rupture comes and leaves no stone unturned
So don’t wish for anything
The clown can be a martyr
The whore can be an angel
The hack becomes a master
The crass becomes divine
The infinite, infinitesimal
All sins irrepressible
The Race Is About To BeginLRC歌词
[00:00.000] 作词 : Geordie Greep
[00:01.000] 作曲 : Cameron Picton/Geordie Greep/Morgan Simpson
[00:12.383]Idiots are infinite
[00:14.765]And thinking men are numbered
[00:18.487]Don’t kid yourself
[00:21.151]This isn’t news
[00:27.277]Let’s start with Tristan Bongo, alone in the race
[00:30.202]Conscription calling his name
[00:33.399]One more night of freedom
[00:35.788]An heiress high up atop the stands
[00:44.839]And the lines are open
[00:46.424]That’s Lucky Star, Eye Sore, Doctor Murphy, Sun Tzu
[00:48.566]The Clap, Mr. Winner, Spot, Wallace, Mrs. Gonorrhoea
[00:50.942]Perfect P, Deadman Walking, and The Company Favourite
[00:55.994]A son hands dad’s hard earned cash to the clerk
[00:58.384]And she laughs at the gall of the small guido lips
[01:01.024]“Put it all on Spot, the kid’s already won”
[01:03.352]John Tyler smeared with last nights beer
[01:04.359]Reflect vomiting Chris who dreams his dream is near
[01:07.273]In the form of Mrs. Gonorrhea
[01:21.260]Reporter reporting the state of affairs
[01:27.644]Inwardly asks of his prime time hair
[01:32.975]Why it can’t quite rival the manes on these mares
[01:41.217]The smoothness can’t compare
[01:45.988]The gleaming appliances attract attention
[01:48.912]The raffle prizes too many to mention
[01:52.118]Displayed all over the stadium entrance
[01:59.310]Hypodermic needles
[02:01.447]Hidden under a coat sleeves
[02:04.399]Of sweaty wise-guy money earning men
[02:06.669]In search of the horse to apprehend
[02:10.656]The race is about to begin
[02:12.521]The race is about to begin
[02:19.688]Blondie locked in 4 Eyes’ arms
[02:22.081]Squirming like a dying fish
[02:24.210]That’s the last I can recall
[02:31.670]The race was ran
[02:32.476]Someone lost, someone won
[02:33.283]I came and I stayed and the same ever since
[02:34.821]Outside
[02:35.342]The freaks of the wilderness, open in spring
[02:36.680]The time before time was the time to sing
[02:38.539]Unidentified song surging through the brush
[02:40.416]Transcription futile, let alone the rush
[02:42.032]You miss when hunched and scribbling notes
[02:43.636]Here no journalism is ever in vogue
[02:45.210]Despite the attempts of doctors and saints
[02:47.075]None have recorded its heavenly grace
[02:48.409]But I stayed, and stayed, and stayed
[02:49.733]That race was ran thirty years back
[02:51.075]And each day since the same
[02:52.124]Peel back the witness of a million catastrophes
[02:53.998]To see the spotty remnants each has left
[02:55.597]I forget in which cups I’ve pissed
[02:56.938]From which I can still drink
[02:58.001]Tonight it’s so cold my feet are shrinking
[02:59.331]Groping around for the sides of my boot
[03:00.924]It’s no night for the blind
[03:02.250]With all these sirens I envy the deaf mutes
[03:03.584]Some killer on the loose again
[03:04.636]Some idiot at large
[03:05.428]Some Chinese moose again
[03:06.225]An excuse for the sarge
[03:07.034]No sirens all silent
[03:08.096]The log cabin's silent
[03:09.156]No killer either
[03:09.952]No creeks in the floor
[03:10.760]Log cabin, what cabin?
[03:12.224]A shack’s all I have
[03:13.023]Yes, my cubbyhole’s stuffed with skeletons
[03:14.562]But my neighbours are stuffed with anthrax
[03:15.848]Where does that leave us?
[03:16.869]I came thirty years back
[03:17.665]From Salafessien, via South Schlagenheim
[03:19.257]To Sunterum and Sunterime
[03:20.069]The late Sun Sugar’s home town
[03:21.395]Buried not far from here
[03:22.473]My only friend
[03:23.267]Neighbor, what neighbor?
[03:24.077]My shack is all alone
[03:25.147]This pen, changing lines
[03:25.669]One line at a time
[03:26.464]Blindness? What blindness? Sweet blindness
[03:28.048]A little laughter, a little silence
[03:29.119]A little magic, a little kindness
[03:30.388]A little all over me, yes me
[03:31.185]The first, the last, the everything
[03:32.471]No trace of anything
[03:33.518]No sin, no life, no fun, no time, no any-****ing-thing
[03:35.900]No one, no yes, no house, no shack, no A, no B, no C, no et cetera
[03:38.572]No one, no two, no et cetera
[03:39.904]No school, no life, no work, no time, no book, no art, no point, no truth, no use, no friend
[03:43.092]No know, no knot, no hole, no birth, no end, no real, no fake
[03:45.957]No king of this useless nameless non-land
[03:47.485]No end to this nothing nonsense non-song
[03:49.091]No day set for my saviors arrival, to carry me far
[03:51.414]Across green waters, above the sky or below the depths
[03:52.978]Among the white cloud or red steppe
[03:54.304]Or to fly forever in-between ends
[03:55.891]Or in-between in-betweens
[03:56.950]Or in-between no-between
[03:58.030]Or no nothing, no saviour, no journey, no end
[03:59.345]A thousand years of no nothing hiding from nothing
[04:01.219]No reason to hide sins or reason not to sin
[04:03.071]No reason to pretend
[04:04.134]No reason to pretend there is not no reason
[04:05.467]Oh, yes
[04:06.266]Blondie ran on the track
[04:07.223]4 Eyes got stuck in the rail
[04:08.023]The reporter was caught getting sweaty in the stable
[04:09.616]Blondie gone, 4 Eyes gone, Guidos gone, Clerk gone, Chris gone
[04:12.272]Tristan Bongo the man who never left
[04:13.338]Tristan Bongo never left
[04:14.401]Still here
[04:15.135]I stayed
[04:25.772]The clown can be a martyr
[04:34.286]The whore can be an angel
[04:44.954]The hack becomes a master
[04:54.244]The crass becomes divine
[05:06.466]The infinite, infinitesimal
[05:17.631]And all sins irrepressible
[05:25.886]No use digging holes to hide
[05:34.115]The rupture comes and leaves no stone unturned
[05:54.858]So don’t wish for anything
[06:09.741]The clown can be a martyr
[06:19.049]The whore can be an angel
[06:27.803]The hack becomes a master
[06:36.585]The crass becomes divine
[06:49.114]The infinite, infinitesimal
[06:55.522]All sins irrepressible
