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| | | | Musik Incubus songtexte
von Marillion | | | Songtext oder melodie:
Incubus Interpret/Künstler/Sänger:
Marillion Wörter des Lieds (lyrik, lied Wort):
382 Das Album/CD: nicht erreichbar Eingestellt am: 1.2.2004
| | | | MARC ALMOND Gutter Hearts GIL If You Only Knew GEORGE HARRISON All Those Years Ago GORDON LIGHTFOOT Miguel GORDON LIGHTFOOT Changes GORDON LIGHTFOOT Walls GORDON LIGHTFOOT Redwood Hill NO CURFEW Let Me Be The One NATALIE COLE Opposites Attract |
When footlights dim in reverence to prescient passion
Forwarned my audience leaves the stage, floating ahead
Perfumed shift within the stammering silence, the face
That launched a thousand frames betrayed by a porcelain tear, a stained career, career
You played this scene before, you played this scene before
I the mote in your eye, eye, eye, eye
I the mote in your eye
A misplaced reaction, reaction
The darkroom unleashes imagination in pornographic images
In which you will always be the star, always be the star
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Untouchable, unapproachable, constant in the darkness, in the darkness, in the darkness
Nursing an erection, a misplaced reaction, with no flower to place before this gravestone
And the walls become enticingly newspaper thin
But that would be developing the negative view
And you have to be exposed in voyeuristic colour
The public act, let you model your shame on the mannequin catwalk, catwalk
Let the cats walk, and the cat walks
I've played this scene before
I've played this scene before
I the mote in your eye, eye, eye, eye
I the mote in your eye
A misplaced reaction, satisfaction
A irritating speck of dust that came from absolutely nowhere
You can't brush me under the carpet, you can't hide me under the stairs
The custodian of your private fears, your leading actor of yesteryear
Who as you crawled out of the alleys of obscurity
Sentenced to rejection in the morass of anonymity
You who I directed with lovers will
You who I let hypnotise the lens
You who I let bathe in the spotlights glare
You who wiped me from your memory like a greasepaint mask
Just like a greasepaint mask
But now I'm the snake in the grass, the ghost of filmreels past
I'm the producer of your nightmare and the performance has just begun
It's just begun, it's just begun
Your perimeter of courtiers jerk like celluloid puppets
As you stutter paralysed with rabbits eyes, searing the shadows
Flooding the wings, to pluck elusive salvation from the understudy's lips
Retrieve the soliloque, maintain the obituary
My cue line in the last act and you wait in silent solitude
Waiting for the prompt, waiting for the prompt
You've played this scene before
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