Template:This Is Hell: Difference between revisions

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(lyrics from ec.com for diff comparison)
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This is hell, this is hell I am sorry to tell you
CHORUS:
 
This is hell, this is hell
I am sorry to tell you
It never gets better or worse
It never gets better or worse
 
But you get used to it after a spell
But you'll get used to it after a spell
 
For heaven is hell in reverse
 
 
 
The bruiser spun a hula hoop while all the barmen preen and pout
 
The neon "i" of nightclub flickers on and off and finally blew out
 
The irritating jingle of the belly-dancing phony Turkish girls
 
The eerie glare of ultra violet perfect dental work
 
 
 
This is hell I am sorry to tell you
 
It never gets better or worse (it never gets better or worse)
 
But you'll get used to it after a spell
 
For heaven is hell in reverse
For heaven is hell in reverse


The bruiser spun a hula hoop
As all the barmen preen and pout
The neon "i" of nightclub flickers on and off
And finally blew out
The irritating jingle
Of the belly-dancing phoney Turkish girls
The eerie glare of ultra violet
Perfect dental work


CHORUS


The failed Don Juan in the big bow-tie is very sorry that he spoke
The failed Don Juan in the big bow-tie
 
Is very sorry that he spoke
For he's mislaid his punchline more than halfway through a very tasteless joke
For he's mislaid his punchline
 
More than halfway through a very tasteless joke
The fräulein caught him peeking down her gown
The fräulein caught him peeking down her gown
He's yelling in her ear
He's yelling in her ear
And all at once the music stopped
As he was intimately bellowing "My dear . . ."


And all at once the music stopped as he was intimately bellowing "My dear..."
CHORUS
 
 
 
This is hell, this is hell I am sorry to tell you
 
It never gets better or worse (it never gets better or worse)
 
But you'll get used to it after a spell
 
For heaven is hell in reverse
 
 
 
The shirt you wore with courage and the violent nylon suit
 
Reappear upon your back and undermine the polished line you try to shoot
 
It's not the torment of the flames that finally see your flesh corrupted


The shirt you wore with courage
And the violent nylon suit
Reappear upon your back
And undermine the polished line you try to shoot
It's not the torment of the flames
That finally see your flesh corrupted
It's the small humiliations that your memory piles up
It's the small humiliations that your memory piles up


This is hell, this is hell, this is hell, this is hell
This is hell, this is hell, this is hell.
 
Hell
 
 
 
"My Favourite Things" are playing again and again
 
But it's by Julie Andrews and not by John Coltrane


"My Favourite Things" are playing
Again and again
But it's by Julie Andrews
And not by John Coltrane
Endless balmy breezes and perfect sunsets framed
Endless balmy breezes and perfect sunsets framed
Vintage wine for breakfast
And naked starlets floating in Champagne
All the passions of your youth
Are tranquillised and tamed
You may think it looks familiar
Though you may know it by another name


Vintage wine for breakfast and naked starlets floating in Champagne
CHORUS
 
All the passions of your youth are tranquillised and tamed
 
You may think it looks familiar, though you may know it by another name
 


 
This is hell, this is hell.
This is hell (this is hell), this is hell (this is hell) I am sorry to tell you
 
It never gets better or worse (it never gets better or worse)
 
But you'll get used to it after a spell
 
For heaven is hell in reverse
 
This is hell, this is hell

Revision as of 00:14, 27 April 2009

CHORUS: This is hell, this is hell I am sorry to tell you It never gets better or worse But you get used to it after a spell For heaven is hell in reverse

The bruiser spun a hula hoop As all the barmen preen and pout The neon "i" of nightclub flickers on and off And finally blew out The irritating jingle Of the belly-dancing phoney Turkish girls The eerie glare of ultra violet Perfect dental work

CHORUS

The failed Don Juan in the big bow-tie Is very sorry that he spoke For he's mislaid his punchline More than halfway through a very tasteless joke The fräulein caught him peeking down her gown He's yelling in her ear And all at once the music stopped As he was intimately bellowing "My dear . . ."

CHORUS

The shirt you wore with courage And the violent nylon suit Reappear upon your back And undermine the polished line you try to shoot It's not the torment of the flames That finally see your flesh corrupted It's the small humiliations that your memory piles up

This is hell, this is hell, this is hell.

"My Favourite Things" are playing Again and again But it's by Julie Andrews And not by John Coltrane Endless balmy breezes and perfect sunsets framed Vintage wine for breakfast And naked starlets floating in Champagne All the passions of your youth Are tranquillised and tamed You may think it looks familiar Though you may know it by another name

CHORUS

This is hell, this is hell.

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