The Prisoner

Here comes another song about Mexico
I just can't help myself
I lost my old lady
Got my lures
Got my bobbers
Now I'm gonna go
Got off in the wrong direction
Found a hooker and lost my erection
So I had to lie
In the letter to the boys back home

Now the good guys and the bad guys
Never work past noon around here
They sit side to side in cantinas
Talk to senoritas
And drink warm beer

Here comes the same old verse about Mexico
We just can't help ourselves
We lost our old ladies
Got our lures
Got our bobbers
No


STILL ILL (BBC)

Oh ! Take me back to dear old Blighty,
Put me on the train for London Town,
Take me anywhere,
Drop me anywhere,
Liverpool, Leeds or Birmingham
But I don't care,
I should like to see my ...

I don't bless them
Farewell to this land's cheerless marshes
Hemmed in like a boar between arches
Her very Lowness with a head in a sling
I'm truly sorry - but it sounds like a wonderful thing


I said Charles, don't you ever crave
To appear on the front of the Daily Mail
Dressed in your Mother's bridal veil ?
Oh ...
And so, I checked all the registered historical facts
And I was shocked into shame to discover
How I'm the 18th pale descendant
Of some old queen or other


Oh, has the world changed, or have I changed ?
Oh has the world changed, or have I changed ?


Some 9-year old tough who peddles drugs
I swear to God
I swear : I never even knew what drugs were
Oh ...
So, I broke into the palace
With a sponge and a rusty spanner
She said : "Eh, I know you, and you cannot sing"
I said : "That's nothing - you should hear me play piano"


We can go for a walk where it's quiet and dry
And talk about precious things
But when you're tied to your Mother's apron
No-one talks about castration
Oh ...


We can go for a walk where it's quiet and dry
And talk about precious things
Like love and law and poverty
Oh, these are the things that kill me


We can go for a walk where it's quiet and dry
And talk about precious things
But the rain that flattens my hair ...
Oh, these are the things that kill me


All their lies about make-up and long hair, are still there


Past the Pub who saps your body
And the church who'll snatch your money
The Queen is dead, boys
And it's so lonely on a limb
Past the Pub that wrecks your body
And the church - all they want is your money
The Queen is dead, boys
And it's so lonely on a limb


Life is very long, when you're lonely
Life is very long, when you're lonely
Life is very long, when you're lonely
Life is very long, when you're lonely

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