OUT OF CONTEXT LYRIC THREAD

If it's going in the tum tum
gotta be yum yum

My mama was the cold north wind
My daddy was the son
Of a railroad man from west of hell
Where the trains don't even run

They smelt of pubs
And Wormwood Scrubs
And too many right-wing meetings

Next phase, new wave, dance craze, anyways,
It's still rock and roll to me

I'm singing this song for my sister Sinead
Concerning the god awful mess that she made
When she told them her truth just as hard as she could
Her message profoundly was misunderstood

There's humans entrusted with guarding our gold
And humans in charge of the saving of souls
And humans responded all over the world
Condemning that bald headed brave little girl

And maybe she's crazy and maybe she ain't
But so was Picasso and so were the saints
And she's never been partial to shackles or chains
She's too old for breaking and too young to tame

It's askin' for trouble to stick out your neck
In terms of a target a big silhouette
But some candles flicker and some candles fade
And some burn as true as my sister Sinead

And maybe she's crazy and maybe she ain't
But so was Picasso and so were the saints
And she's never been partial to shackles or chains
She's too old for breaking and too young to tame

We wanna say
We're gonna tell ya
About the young idea
And if it don't work
At least we still tried

I know a guy who goes to shows,
When he's at home and he blows his nose,
He don't use tissues, or his sleeves,
He don't use napkins or any of these.
He uses Magazines

My pocket don't drive me fast
My mother treats me slow
My statue's got a concrete heart
But you're the coldest bitch I know

August, die she must

Satin sheets, tropical oils
Turn up the heat 'til the swimming pool boils

I met a girl who sang the blues
and I asked her for some happy news
but she just smiled and turned away

Waiting to keep the appointment she made
Meeting a man from the motor trade

I'd gladly lose me to find you

The warmth of your hand and the cold grey sky