Letras:
Nick Cave The Bad Seeds Abattoir Blues The Lyre Of Orpheus

It's up in the morning and on the downs Little white clouds like gambolling lambs And I am breathless over you And the red-breasted robin beats his wings

You have a heart and I have a key Lie back and let me unlock you Those heathens you hang with down by the sea All they want to do is defrock you

Get ready for love! Praise Him! Get ready tot love! Praise Him! Get ready for love! Get readyl Well, most of all nothing much ever really happens And

away I was hidden, dem, hiding all away You asked at the local constabulary They said, he's up to his same old tricks They leered at you with their baby blues

Farmer Emmerich went into his barn And found a cow suckling a serpent And a brown ape clanking a heavy chain Said Farmer Emmerich to the ape Never ask

Pass me that lovely little gun My dear, my darting one The cleaners are coming, one by one You don't even want to let them start They are knocking now

And she said to Orpheus If you play that fucking thing down here I'll stick it up your orifice! O Mamma O Mamma This lyre lark is for the birds, said Orpheus

Through the windswept coastal trees Where the dead come rising from the sea With a teddy-bear clamped between her knees She says, where can my loverman