You Will Never Work In Television Again (Live at Montreux Jazz Festival)

Fear not, my love He's a fat fucking mist Young bones spat out Girls slitting their wrists Curtain calling for the kiss From a nursery rhyme Behind some rocks Underneath some bridge Some gangster troll promising the moon Yeah, right Sleep tight All night Some kid in golden chains Two slippery ropes A lonely stitch left to be unpicked Including my left foot Turn the lights down low Bunga-bunga, or you'll Never work in television again He chews 'em up, he spits 'em out It's whatshisname, the genie man Mechanical, mechanical All those beautiful hopes and dreams Devoured by those evil eyes And them piggy limbs You sad fuck, throwing small change Get your dirty hands off my love Heaven knows where else you've been Heaven knows where else you've been Heaven knows where else you've been Heaven knows where else you've been Heaven knows where else you've been (Thank you) (Thank you, everyone)