Song | Shrunken Heads |
Artist | Ian Hunter |
Album | Shrunken Heads |
HunterConcrete steps never swept | |
It used to be fear, now they call it respect | |
Sad old walls fallin' down | |
On the shattered skulls in the battleground. | |
Absent fathers, weary mums | |
The old, the sick, the dying and the isolated ones | |
Ancient language turns obscene | |
Between the goal posts of a circular dream. | |
Nothin' matters anymore | |
The rich get richer and the poor get sorer | |
This house is haunted and the streets are dead | |
We're all at the mercy of shrunken heads. | |
Bells are ringing of a cleaner time | |
There ain't no washing hangin' out on the line anymore | |
Something died and | |
I don't know when | |
But it's funkier now that it ever was then. | |
Nothin' matters anymore | |
And the rich get richer and the poor get sorer | |
The heart of the city is dilapidated | |
Who's gonna save us from these shrunken heads? | |
On a windy day where no one smiles | |
On a pleasureless beach on a go-go-golden mile | |
In a sad café eating day old bread | |
And I tip the angry actress with pockets full of shrunken heads. | |
Windows barred, exhausted dull | |
And the smell of decay is miserable | |
Dangerous streets where the dealers rule | |
Lie litter strewn around a frozen school. | |
Nothin' matters anymore | |
The rich get richer, and the poor get sorer | |
You took our loyalty and you tore it to shreds | |
And now we're all the mercy of shrunken heads. | |
Nothing matters anymore | |
And the rich get richer, and the poor stay sorer | |
And the heart of the city is red-carpeted | |
Now freaks of nature, shrunken heads. | |
Shrunken heads decide my fate | |
It used to be 10, now it's 10: 08 | |
We ain't got the answers, it's complicated | |
I wouldn't bet any money on shrunken heads, oh. |
HunterConcrete steps never swept | |
It used to be fear, now they call it respect | |
Sad old walls fallin' down | |
On the shattered skulls in the battleground. | |
Absent fathers, weary mums | |
The old, the sick, the dying and the isolated ones | |
Ancient language turns obscene | |
Between the goal posts of a circular dream. | |
Nothin' matters anymore | |
The rich get richer and the poor get sorer | |
This house is haunted and the streets are dead | |
We' re all at the mercy of shrunken heads. | |
Bells are ringing of a cleaner time | |
There ain' t no washing hangin' out on the line anymore | |
Something died and | |
I don' t know when | |
But it' s funkier now that it ever was then. | |
Nothin' matters anymore | |
And the rich get richer and the poor get sorer | |
The heart of the city is dilapidated | |
Who' s gonna save us from these shrunken heads? | |
On a windy day where no one smiles | |
On a pleasureless beach on a gogogolden mile | |
In a sad café eating day old bread | |
And I tip the angry actress with pockets full of shrunken heads. | |
Windows barred, exhausted dull | |
And the smell of decay is miserable | |
Dangerous streets where the dealers rule | |
Lie litter strewn around a frozen school. | |
Nothin' matters anymore | |
The rich get richer, and the poor get sorer | |
You took our loyalty and you tore it to shreds | |
And now we' re all the mercy of shrunken heads. | |
Nothing matters anymore | |
And the rich get richer, and the poor stay sorer | |
And the heart of the city is redcarpeted | |
Now freaks of nature, shrunken heads. | |
Shrunken heads decide my fate | |
It used to be 10, now it' s 10: 08 | |
We ain' t got the answers, it' s complicated | |
I wouldn' t bet any money on shrunken heads, oh. |