Fugazi Lyrics - Singles - Marillion

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