marillion
interior lulu
As you lie there on your bed  Beneath the face of Louise Brooks  With your makeup and your teddy bear  And your C.S. Lewis books  Bad seed  You're a bad seed   You're a decadent in chrysalis  Waiting sleepily to emerge  When you'll visit every seedy need Of your random obsessive urge   All the ruses that you use  All the food that you refuse  All the dust and tired air that feeds Interior Lulus  All the poisoned attitudes  And the lust for the unknown  And the second best that devils use To make this world their own  Interior Lulu  Interior Lulu   Every rainy day by e-mail  As you lie there on your bed Another virtual page arrives  There will be times when you remember me Of the chapters you'll be writing  As the voices echo in your head In the book called wasted lives  As you read Henry and Anais  All the lost weekends and booze All the finger-and-thumb screws  All the sleepless worn out blues that bruise Interior Lulus  Interior Lulu  Interior Lulu   Use the anger  Paint a picture of it  Throw the colours  Use the pain, use the pain  Scream back a brand new emotion  As it runs across the skin  Fire across paper Burn and curl, burn and curl  You thought you couldn't feel like this  But it's happening again and you're waking up in pain  Tattooed in that private place  Microsoft and tears  Intimately pierced   Discovering and remembering  You felt like this somewhere before  Stirrin' up the bed of the river  Somewhere you don't like to go   You wrote this down so many times  But you get up anyway and you write it down again You've bored us all to death with this  Well who you gonna tell  When you've nothing left to sell   She says she's lonely She says she knows me  But she's a one-way street  She told me what I already know  "If you can carry it out you can take it away If you can carry it out you can take it away  If you can buy it, it can be bought  If you can buy it, it can be stolen If you can break it  It's already broken"   Lately, I can stand to hear other people talking So many empty conversations  What a waste of lips   Lately I can stand to stand on Primrose Hill  Look down upon the city  A heart pumping the roads  In our racing stripes  We rejoice at being "connected" Without touching  Thank god for the internet   We stare at our screens  All our lives What a waste of eyes 'Till the electrical storm blows our fuses  And we gaze, dumbfounded, at the rain   All the trust and tired care Left to rust and go nowhere  All this gold beneath my skin  Sparklin' like sin somewhere within  In so deep In so deep that  I can't sleep for these interior Lu lu lu lu lus