the terminally insane, insane Do-do-do you realize Do-do-do you realize Do-do-do you realize This world is totally fugazi Where are the prophets, where
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Vertimas: Marillion. Fugazi.
Vertimas: Marillion. Fugazi (Live).
Washing machine, pinstripe dream Stripped the gloss from a beauty queen Found our nest, in the Daily Express Met the vicar in a holy vest Brought up
I am the assassin, with tongue forged from eloquence I am the assassin, providing your nemesis On the sacrificial altar to success, my friend Unleash
To be the prince of possession in the gallery of contempt Suffering your indiscreet discretions and you ask me to relent As you accumulate flirtations
Sheltering her ego on the edge of a floodlit arc She'll contemplate seduction, she'll calculate the catch When she moved, her presence speared me When
When footlights dim in reverence to prescient passion forewarned My audience leaves the stage, floating ahead perfumed shift Within the stammering silence
We are jigsaw pieces aligned on the perimeter edge Interlocked through a missing piece We are renaissance children becalmed beneath the Bridge of Sighs
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