Marillion : Heart of Lothian

Neo Prog / United-Kingdom
(1985 - EMI Records)
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Letras

1. HEART OF LOTHIAN

I) Wide Boy
Wide boys, wide boys, wide boys, born with hearts of Lothian.
Wide boys, wide boys, born with hearts of Lothian.
Wide boys, we were wide boys, born with hearts of Lothian.
These hearts of Lothian.

It's six o'clock in the tower blocks,
The stalagmites of culture shock, (culture shock)
And the trippers of the light fantastic, bowdown, hoedown
Spray their pheremones on this perfume uniform.

And anarchy smiles in the Royal Mile.
And they're waiting on the Slyboys, flyboys, wideboys.
Rooting, tooting Cowboys, lucky little ladies at the watering holes.

They'll score the Friday night goals.
I was born, with a heart of Lothian.
I was born, with a heart of Lothian.
I was born, with a heart of Lothian.

With a heart of Lothian.
II) Curtain Call
And the man from the magazine,
wants another shot of you all curled up.

'Cos you look like an actor in a movie shot.
But you're feeling like a wino in a parking lot.
How did I get here anyway?
Do we really need a playback of the show?

'Cos the wideboys want to head for the watering holes,
watering holes, watering holes.
Let's go.
And the man in the mirror has sad eyes.




2. CHELSEA MONDAY

Catalogue princess, apprentice seductress
living in her cellophane world in glitter town
Awaiting the prince in his white Capri
Dynamic young tarzan courts the bedsit queen.

She's playing the actress in this bedroom scene
She's learning her lines from glossy magazines
Stringing all her pearls from her childhood dreams
Auditioning for the leading role on the silver screen.

Patience my tinsel angel, patience my perfumed child
One day they'll really love you, you'll charm them with that smile
But for now it`s just another Chelsea Monday.

Drifting with her incense in the labyrinth of London,
Playing games with faces in the neon wonderland
Perform to scattered shadows on the shattered cobbled aisles
Would she dare recite soliliquies at the risk of startk applause.

She'll pray for endless Sundays as she enters saffron sunsets,
Conjure phantom lovers from the tattered shreds of dawn,
Fulfilled and yet forgotten the St. Tropez mirage
Fragrance aphrodisiac, the withered tuberose.

Patience my tinsel angel, patience my perfumed child
One day they'll really love you, you'll charm them with that smile
But for now it`s just another Chelsea Monday.
Catalogue princess, apprentice seductress
Buried in her cellophane world in glitter town.


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