Morality: accordi di
Chumbawamba
Chumbawamba

N/A
Tonalità: E minor
Verse 1
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People would have to be
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told that if they refuse to
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answer questions when they might
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be expected to answer
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questions, that is something
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which can be used at the
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trial and which might strengthen
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the case against them.
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Hang Michael Howard, oh c'mon...
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Act one, the smell of green leather,
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French polish, quite pristine,
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not a hair out of place, not a wrinkle,
not a crease,
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the silverware all clean.
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Exquisite chaussures grace
marble floors,
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be upstanding, for men of yore.
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But wait, who's this,
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sticky under the collar in Elsinore?
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Enter silent comedy geek with
dynamite down his pants.
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Nervous, shuffling on his feet,
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leading a merry song and dance.
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A back seat driver of good moral fibre,
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holding up the light. He's
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made his own bed,
now he's got to lie in it. Ho hum,
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it serves him right.
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Act three, 'I am the lord
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of the dance,
' said he. John the Baptist,
dripping wet, playing sir politick- would-
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be.
Backslapping, backsliding,
back to basic instincts,
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backfiring.
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By your own choice you're
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on a hiding to nothing,
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I ask you which is more comforting?
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The thought that I am bad seed,
gone to seed, turned sour by
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TV sex and violence.
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Or even worse,
am I unleashed by my own volition to
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do you ill? 'Condemn a little more,
understand a little less.' Oh sad sir,
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thou jest! Ha ha! I am Prometheus,
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prepare thee to meet thy nemesis.
Interlude 1
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Verse 2
Thanks a lot

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