Song lyrics you never understood.

Someone suggested this is about scousers?

South of Heaven
by Slayer
An unforeseen future nestled somewhere in time
Unsuspecting victims no warnings no signs
Judgment Day the second coming arrives
Before you see the light, you must die

Forgotten children confirm a new faith
Avidity and lust controlled by hate
The never ending search for your shattered sanity
Souls of damnation in their own reality

Chaos rampant in age of distrust
Confrontations impulsive habitat

Bastard sons beget your canting daughters
Promiscuous mothers with your incestuous fathers
Ingrate souls condemned for all eternity
Sustained by immoral observance a domineering deity

Chaos rampant in an age of distrust
Confrontations impulsive sabbath

On and on south of Heaven

The root of all evil is the heart of a black soul
The force that has lived all eternity
The never ending search for a truth never told
The loss of all hope and your dignity

Chaos rampant in an age of distrust
Confrontations impulsive habitat

On and on south of Heaven
On and on south of Heaven
On and on south of Heaven
On and on south of Heaven

Songwriter: JEFFERY JOHN HANNEMAN,KERRY KING,TOMAS ENRIQUE ARAYA
© Universal Music Publishing Group
 
Classic from Marillion,

Fugazi



Vodka intimate, an affair with isolation in a Blackheath cell
Extinguishing the fires in a private hell
Provoking the heartache to renew the licence
Of a bleeding heart poet in a fragile capsule
Propping up the crust of the glitter conscience
Wrapped in the christening shawl of a hangover
Baptised in the tears from the real
Drowning in the liquid seize on the Piccadilly line, rat race
Scuttling through the damp electric labyrinth
Caress Ophelia's hand with breathstroke ambition
An albatross in the marrytime tradition
Sheathed within the Walkman wear the halo of distortion
Aural contraceptive aborting pregnant conversation
She turned the harpoon and it pierced my heart
She hung herself around my neck
From the Time-Life-Guardians in their conscience bubbles
Safe and dry in my sea of troubles
Nine to five with suitable ties
Cast adrift as their side-show, peepshow, stereo hero
Becalm bestill, bewitch, drowning in the real
The thief of Baghdad hides in Islington now
Praying deportation for his sacred cow
A legacy of romance from a twilight world
The dowry of a relative mystery girl
A Vietnamese flower, a Dockland union
A mistress of release from a magazine's thighs
Magdalenes contracts more than favours
The feeding hands of western promise hold her by the throat
A son of a swastika of '45 parading a peroxide standard
Graffiti conjure disciples testaments of hatred
Aerosol wands whisper where the searchlights trim the barbed wire hedges
This is Brixton chess
A knight for Embankment folds his newspaper castle
A creature of habit, begs the boatman's coin
He'll fade with old soldiers in the grease stained roll call
And linger with the heartburn of Good Friday's last supper
Son watches father scan obituary columns in search of absent school friends
While his generation digests high fibre ignorance
Cowering behind curtains and the taped up painted windows
Decriminalised genocide, provided door to door Belsens
Pandora's box of holocausts gracefully cruising satellite infested heavens
Waiting, the season of the button, the penultimate migration
Radioactive perfumes, for the fashionably, for the terminally insane, insane
Do you realise? Do you realise?
Do you realise, this world is totally fugazi
Where are the prophets, where are the visionaries, where are the poets
To breach the dawn of the sentimental mercenary
Songwriters: Derek William Dick / Ian Mosley / Mark Kelly / Pete Trewavas / Steve Rothery
Fugazi lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC
 
Tuearts right boot said:
Classic from Marillion,

Fugazi



Vodka intimate, an affair with isolation in a Blackheath cell
Extinguishing the fires in a private hell
Provoking the heartache to renew the licence
Of a bleeding heart poet in a fragile capsule
Propping up the crust of the glitter conscience
Wrapped in the christening shawl of a hangover
Baptised in the tears from the real
Drowning in the liquid seize on the Piccadilly line, rat race
Scuttling through the damp electric labyrinth
Caress Ophelia's hand with breathstroke ambition
An albatross in the marrytime tradition
Sheathed within the Walkman wear the halo of distortion
Aural contraceptive aborting pregnant conversation
She turned the harpoon and it pierced my heart
She hung herself around my neck
From the Time-Life-Guardians in their conscience bubbles
Safe and dry in my sea of troubles
Nine to five with suitable ties
Cast adrift as their side-show, peepshow, stereo hero
Becalm bestill, bewitch, drowning in the real
The thief of Baghdad hides in Islington now
Praying deportation for his sacred cow
A legacy of romance from a twilight world
The dowry of a relative mystery girl
A Vietnamese flower, a Dockland union
A mistress of release from a magazine's thighs
Magdalenes contracts more than favours
The feeding hands of western promise hold her by the throat
A son of a swastika of '45 parading a peroxide standard
Graffiti conjure disciples testaments of hatred
Aerosol wands whisper where the searchlights trim the barbed wire hedges
This is Brixton chess
A knight for Embankment folds his newspaper castle
A creature of habit, begs the boatman's coin
He'll fade with old soldiers in the grease stained roll call
And linger with the heartburn of Good Friday's last supper
Son watches father scan obituary columns in search of absent school friends
While his generation digests high fibre ignorance
Cowering behind curtains and the taped up painted windows
Decriminalised genocide, provided door to door Belsens
Pandora's box of holocausts gracefully cruising satellite infested heavens
Waiting, the season of the button, the penultimate migration
Radioactive perfumes, for the fashionably, for the terminally insane, insane
Do you realise? Do you realise?
Do you realise, this world is totally fugazi
Where are the prophets, where are the visionaries, where are the poets
To breach the dawn of the sentimental mercenary
Songwriters: Derek William Dick / Ian Mosley / Mark Kelly / Pete Trewavas / Steve Rothery
Fugazi lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC
Click to expand...
Complete bollocks
 
We were at the beach Everybody had matching towels Somebody went under a dock And there they saw a rock It wasn't a rock It was a rock lobster Rock lobster Rock lobster Rock lobster Rock lobster
 
mat said:
Fun fact
To keep with the writers close affection for British culture the original line was going to be "Are we Human or are we Scousers?" Naturally the city got wind of it so he changed it to prevent another victim ceremony*

*Not really
Click to expand...
It all makes sense now.....
 
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