Lirik Lagu Episode Of Blonde - Elvis Costello
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I spy for the "Spirit of Curiosity"All the scandals of each vain monstrosityI gossip and I pry and I insinuateIf the failure is greatThen it tends to fascinate
A tornado dropped a funnel cloud with twenty tons of rainThough she had the attention span of warm cellophaneHer lovers fell like skittles in a 10-pin bowling laneBut nothing could compare with the explosion of fame
So you jumped back with alarmEvery Elvis has his armyEvery rattlesnake his charmCan you still hear me?Am I coming through just fine?Your memory was buried in simple box of pine
[Chorus:]Did her green eyes seduce you and make you get so weak?Was there fire engine red that she left upon your cheek?It's such a shame you had to break the heartYou could have counted on but the last thing you need is another...Episode of blonde
Revolving like a jeweller's figure on a music boxSpangled curtain parted and night-club scene unlocksPinned and fixed and fastened in a follow spotArms thrown out to everyone, she's giving all she's gotTo the last gasp of a wounded bandeonTiny man imploring to the ceiling fanThis stolen feelingAmplified up through a busted speakerBlaring, blasting, advertising, distorted beyond reasonInto the street where petty crime-coats shadow panic drunkards,Half out of the taxi cab the barker seized my elbowHe thought I was another lonely, likely pilgrim looking for St. Telmo
[Chorus]
I tried to keep a straight face but you know it never paysHe would stare into those eyes and then vacation in her gazeShe was a cute little ruin that he pulled out of the rubbleNow they are both living in a soft soap bubble
The film producer's contemplating, entertaining suicideThe picture crumpled in his fist, his runaway child brideThe timepiece stretched across his wristShe couldn't care less cast asideThe scent that so repelled him that he swore: "insecticide"And there's farewell note to motherThat will conclude "your loving Son""Oh, tell your other children not to do as I have done"
[Chorus]
So an artist drags a toothbrush across the first thing that he seesAnd names the painting "Christ's Last Exit into Purgatory"Receiving secret messages from an alien intelligencePaying off his stalker it's a legitimate expenseSo paste up pictures of those shrill and hollow girlsWith puckered lipsShe's a trophy on your armA magnet for your money clipThe moral of this story is the sorry tale to sayThey're pieced with links of chains so they can never run away
A tornado dropped a funnel cloud with twenty tons of rainThough she had the attention span of warm cellophaneHer lovers fell like skittles in a 10-pin bowling laneBut nothing could compare with the explosion of fame
So you jumped back with alarmEvery Elvis has his armyEvery rattlesnake his charmCan you still hear me?Am I coming through just fine?Your memory was buried in simple box of pine
[Chorus:]Did her green eyes seduce you and make you get so weak?Was there fire engine red that she left upon your cheek?It's such a shame you had to break the heartYou could have counted on but the last thing you need is another...Episode of blonde
Revolving like a jeweller's figure on a music boxSpangled curtain parted and night-club scene unlocksPinned and fixed and fastened in a follow spotArms thrown out to everyone, she's giving all she's gotTo the last gasp of a wounded bandeonTiny man imploring to the ceiling fanThis stolen feelingAmplified up through a busted speakerBlaring, blasting, advertising, distorted beyond reasonInto the street where petty crime-coats shadow panic drunkards,Half out of the taxi cab the barker seized my elbowHe thought I was another lonely, likely pilgrim looking for St. Telmo
[Chorus]
I tried to keep a straight face but you know it never paysHe would stare into those eyes and then vacation in her gazeShe was a cute little ruin that he pulled out of the rubbleNow they are both living in a soft soap bubble
The film producer's contemplating, entertaining suicideThe picture crumpled in his fist, his runaway child brideThe timepiece stretched across his wristShe couldn't care less cast asideThe scent that so repelled him that he swore: "insecticide"And there's farewell note to motherThat will conclude "your loving Son""Oh, tell your other children not to do as I have done"
[Chorus]
So an artist drags a toothbrush across the first thing that he seesAnd names the painting "Christ's Last Exit into Purgatory"Receiving secret messages from an alien intelligencePaying off his stalker it's a legitimate expenseSo paste up pictures of those shrill and hollow girlsWith puckered lipsShe's a trophy on your armA magnet for your money clipThe moral of this story is the sorry tale to sayThey're pieced with links of chains so they can never run away
