Текст песни This Vicious Cabaret - David J
They
say
that
there's
a
broken
light
for
every
heart
on
Broadway.
They
say
that
life's
a
game,
then
they
take
the
board
away.
They
give
you
masks
and
costumes
and
an
outline
of
the
story
Then
leave
you
all
to
improvise
their
vicious
cabaret...
In
no-longer-pretty
cities
there
are
fingers
in
the
kitties.
There
are
warrants,
forms,
and
chitties
and
a
jackboot
on
the
stair.
Sex
and
death
and
human
grime,
in
monochrome
for
one
thin
dime,
At
least
the
trains
all
run
on
time
but
they
don't
go
anywhere.
Facing
their
responsibilities,
either
on
their
backs
or
on
their
knees
There
are
ladies
who
just
simply
freeze
and
dare
not
turn
away
And
the
widows
who
refuse
to
cry
will
be
dressed
in
garter
and
bow-tie
And
be
taught
to
kick
their
legs
up
high
in
this
vicious
cabaret.
At
last!
The
1998
Show!
The
ballet
on
the
burning
stage.
The
documentary
seen
Upon
the
fractured
screen
The
dreadful
poem
scrawled
upon
the
crumpled
page...
There's
a
policeman
with
an
honest
soul
that
has
seen
whose
head
is
on
the
pole
And
he
grunts
and
fills
his
briar
bowl
with
a
feeling
of
unease.
Then
he
briskly
frisks
the
torn
remains
for
a
fingerprint
or
crimson
stains
And
endevours
to
ignore
the
chins
that
he
walks
in
to
his
knees.
While
his
master
in
the
dark
nearby
inspects
the
hands,
with
brutal
eye,
That
have
never
brushed
a
lover's
thigh
but
have
squeezed
a
nation's
throat.
And
he
hungers
in
his
secret
dreams
for
the
harsh
embrace
of
cruel
machines
But
his
lover
is
not
what
she
seems
and
she
will
not
leave
a
note.
At
last!
The
1998
Show!
The
Situation
Tragedy
Grand
Opera
slick
with
soap
Cliffhangers
with
no
hope
The
water-colour
in
the
flooded
gallery...
There's
a
girl
who'll
push
but
will
not
shove
and
she's
desperate
for
her
father's
love
She
believes
the
hand
beneath
the
glove
maybe
one
she
needs
to
hold.
Though
she
doubts
her
host's
moralities
she
decides
she
is
more
at
ease
In
the
Land
Of
Doing-As-You-Please
than
outside
in
the
cold.
But
the
backdrops
peel
and
the
sets
give
way
and
the
cast
get
eaten
by
the
play
There's
a
murderer
at
the
Matinee,
there
are
dead
men
in
the
aisles
And
the
patrons
and
the
actors
too
are
uncertain
if
the
show
is
through
And
with
side-long
looks
await
their
cue
but
the
frozen
mask
just
smiles.
At
last!
The
1998
Show!
The
torch-song
no
one
ever
sings
The
curfew
chorus
line
The
comedy
divine
The
bulging
eyes
of
puppets
strangled
by
their
strings
There's
thrills
and
chills
and
girls
galore,
sing-songs
and
surprises
There's
something
hear
for
everyone,
(reserve
your
seat
today)
There's
mischief
and
malarkies
but
no
queers
or
yids
or
darkies
Within
this
bastard's
carnival,
this
vicious
cabaret!
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