Procol Harum - Bbc Live In Concert [compilation, live] (2005) by Procol Harum (보컬) on maniadb.com

Conquistador your stallion stands
in need of company
and like some angel's haloed brow
you reek of purity
I see your armour-plated breast
has long since lost its sheen
and in your death mask face
there are no signs which can be seen

And though I hoped for something to find
I could see no maze to unwind

Conquistador a vulture sits
upon your silver shield
and in your rusty scabbard now
the sand has taken seed
and though your jewel-encrusted blade
has not been plundered still
the sea has washed across your face
and taken of its fill



And though I hoped for something to find
I could see no maze to unwind

Conquistador there is no time
I must pay my respect
and though I came to jeer at you
I leave now with regret
and as the gloom begins to fall
I see there is no, only all
and though you came with sword held high
you did not conquer, only die

And though I hoped for something to find
I could see no maze to unwind

Bringing home the bacon,
tender juicy steaks
Breast-fed baby dumpling
gobbling up the cakes

Milk-fed baby dumpling,
slobbering, goo-faced, mean
Wet-nursed sour purse spot face,
blubbering in the cream

Emperor baby dumpling,
loaded, bloated curse
Mighty baby dumpling,
stuffing 'til he bursts

Pailing well after sixteen days, a mammoth task was set
Sack the town, and rob the tower, and steal the alphabet
Close the door and bar the gate, but keep the windows clean
God's alive inside a movie! Watch the silver screen!

Rum was served to all the traitors; pygmies held themselves in check
Bloodhounds nosed around the houses, down dark alleys sailors crept
Six bells struck, the pot was boiling - soup spilled out on passers-by
Angels mumbled incantations, closely watched by God on high

Lightning struck out - fire and brimstone! Boiling oil and shrieking steam!
Darkness struck with molten fury, flashbulbs glorified the scene
Not a man who had a finger, not a man who could be seen
Nothing called (not name nor number) - Echo stormed its final scream

Daybreak washed with sands of gladness, rotting all it rotted clean
Windows peeped out on their neighbors, inside fireside bedsides gleam
SHALIMAR, the trumpets chorused, angels wholly all shall take
Those alive will meet the prophets, those at peace shall see their wake

The end of the evening, unable to cope
Unique entertainment no longer a joke
The close of the picture, the end of the show
Merciless torment, torturous blow

New lamps for old
Bright shiny gold
Innocent youth
Falsehood for truth

The eye of the needle, the loss of the thread
Triumphant victor, glorious dead
The cause becomes duty; duty's the blow
Which kills the picture: death of the show

Who will search for Holy Grail
Past the edge beyond the veil
Who will come beyond the light
Far from reach beyond all sight
Who will share this bitter cup
let the wild dogs tear them up
let the cold winds blow them down
drive them deep beneath the ground

Who will live in darkest night
Dankest gloom and quietest quiet
Buried deep beneath the ground
Far from any human sound

Who will search for treasure trove
Scour the seas and scale the globe
Past the peaks beyond the heights
Farmost reaches furthest sights
Who will share this bitter cup
let the wild dogs tear them up
let the cold winds blow them down
drive them deep beneath the ground

Psychiatrists and lawyers destroying mankind
Drivin' 'em crazy...and stealing 'em blind
Bankers and brokers ruling the world
Storing the silver and hoarding the gold

Ain't no use in preachers preaching
When they don't know what they're teaching
The weakest man be strong as samson
When you're being held to ransom

Famine and hardship in true living colour
Constant reminders...the plight of our brother
Daily starvation our diet of news
Fed to the teeth with a barrage of views

Ain't no use in preachers preaching


When they don't know what they're teaching
The weakest man be strong as samson
When you're being held to ransom

Black men and white men, and arabs and jews
Causing congestion and filling the queues
Fighting for freedom the truth and the word
Fighting the war for the end of the world

Ain't no use in preachers preaching
When they don't know what they're teaching
Weakest man be strong as samson
When you're being held to ransom

Simple sister
Got whooping cough
Have to burn her toys
Take her treats
Eat her sweets
Scare off all the boys

Simple sister
Got whooping cough
Have to put her out
Wear her clothes
Steal her bows


Tell her that she's stout

Simple sister
Got whooping cough
Lock her in a cell
Throw the key
Into the sea
Hope she never gets well

Tonight we sleep on silken sheets
We drink fine wine and eat rare meats
On Carousel and gambling stake
Our fortunes speed, and dissipate.
It's candlelight and chandelier,
It's silver plate and crystal clear.
The nights we stay at Hotel Grand

Tonight we dine at Hotel Ritz.
(A golden dish with every wish ).
It's mirrored walls, and velvet drapes,
Dry champagne, and bursting grapes.
Dover sole, and Oeufs Mornay,
Profiteroles and Peach Flambe,
The waiters dance on fingertips
The nights we dine at Hotel Ritz

One more toast to greet the morn
The wine and dine have danced till dawn
Where's my Continental Bride?
We'll Continental slip and slide
Early morning pinch and bite -
(These French girls always like to fight)
It's serenade and Sarabande,
The nights we stay at Hotel Grand
Les nuits qu'on passe a l'Hotel Grande.

They tell us that we're savages
who haven't got a hope
We're burning in the furnaces,
we're choking at the smoke
They say we haven't got a choice,
refuse to recognize our voice
Yet they enjoy comissions
from the proceeds of the joke

Those Butterfly Boys
at play with their toys
Stinging like bees
itching like fleas
Butterfly Boys
you got the toys
You got the breeze
we cought the freeze
Butterfly Boys give us a break
We got the groceries you got the cake

They tell us that we're savages
who cannot understand
We're sailing on a sinking ship,
we're swimming in the sand
They put their fingers in their ears,
refuse to recognize our fears
And fly off to Jamaica
when we call them underhand