. . .
|
|
(Sting)
Young teacher, the subject
Of schoolgirl fantasy
She wants him so badly
Knows what she wants to be
Inside her there's longing
This girl's an open page
Book marking - she's so close now
This girl is half his age
Don't stand, don't stand so
Don't stand so close to me
Don't stand, don't stand so
Don't stand so close to me
Her friends are so jealous
You know how bad girls get
Sometimes it's not so easy
To be the teacher's pet
Temptation, frustration
So bad it makes him cry
Wet bus stop, she's waiting
His car is warm and dry
Don't stand, don't stand so
Don't stand so close to me
Don't stand, don't stand so
Don't stand so close to me
Loose talk in the classroom
To hurt they try and try
Strong words in the staffroom
The accusations fly
It's no use, he sees her
He starts to shake and cough
Just like the old man in
That book by Nabakov
Don't stand, don't stand so
Don't stand so close to me
Don't stand, don't stand so
Don't stand so close to me
Don't stand, don't stand so
Don't stand so close to me
[Back:] (Please don't stand so close to me)
(Repeat to fade)
. . .
|
|
(Sting)
How can you say that your not responsible?
What does it have to do with me?
What is my reaction, what should it be?
Confronted by this latest atrocity
Driven to tears
Driven to tears
Driven to tears
Hide my face in my hands, shame wells in my throat
My comfortable existance is reduced to a shallow meaningless party
Seems that when some innocent die
All we can offer them is a page in a some magazine
Too many cameras and not enough food
'Cause this is what we've seen
Driven to tears
Driven to tears
Driven to tears
Protest is futile, nothing seems to get through
What's to become of our world, who knows what to do
Driven to tears
Driven to tears
Driven to tears
Driven to tears
Driven to tears
Driven to tears
. . .
|
|
(Sting)
Turn on my V.C.R.
Same one I've had for years
James Brown on the Tammy show
Same tape I've had for years
I sit in my old car
Same one I've had for years
Old battery's running down
It ran for years and years
Turn on the radio
The static hurts my ears
Tell me where would I go
I ain't been out in years
Turn on the stereo
It's played for years and years
An Otis Redding song
It's all I own
When the world is running down
You make the best of what's still around
When the world is running down
You make the best of what's still around
Plug in my M.C.I
To excercise my brain
Make records on my own
Can't go out in the rain
Pick up the telephone
I've listened here for years
No one to talk to me
I've listened here for years
When the world is running down
You make the best of what's still around
When the world is running down
You make the best of what's still around
When I feel lonely here
Don't waste my time with tears
I run 'Deep Throat' again
It ran for years and years
Don't like the food I eat
The cans are running out
Same food for years and years
I hate the food I eat
When the world is running down
You make the best of what's still around
When the world is running down
You make the best of what's still around
When the world is running down
You make the best of what's still around
When the world is running down
You make the best of what's still around
. . .
|
|
(Sting)
First to fall over when the atmosphere is less than perfect
Your sensibilities are shaken by the slightest defect
You live you life like a canary in a coalmine
You get so dizzy even walking in a straight line
You say you want to spend the winter in Firenza
You're so afraid to catch a dose of influenza
You live your life like a canary in a coalmine
You get so dizzy even walking in a straight line
Canary in a coalmine
Canary in a coalmine
Canary in a coalmine
Now if I tell you that you suffer from delusions
You pay your analyst to reach the same conclusions
You live your life like a canary in a coalmine
You get so dizzy even walking in a straight line
Canary in a coalmine
Canary in a coalmine
Canary in a coalmine
First to fall over when the atmosphere is less than perfect
Your sensibilities are shaken by the slightest defect
You live your life like a canary in a coalmine
You get so dizzy even walking in a straight line
Canary in a coalmine...
. . .
|
|
(Sting)
Voices inside my head
Echoes of things that you said
(etc.)
. . .
|
|
(Stewart Copeland)
The general scratches his belly and thinks
His pay is good but his officers stink
Guerilla girl, hard and sweet
A military man would love to meet
The President looks in the mirror and speaks
His shirts are clean but his country reeks
Unpaid bills
In Afghanistan hills
Bombs away
But we're O.K.
Bombs away
In old Bombay
The general only wants to teach France to dance
His army life doesn't give him any romance
Guerilla girl, hard and sweet
A military man would love to meet
The general scratches his belly and thinks
His pay is good but his company stinks
Guerilla girl, hard and sweet
A military man would love to meet
Bombs away
But we're O.K.
Bombs away
In old Bombay
(repeat to fade)
. . .
|
|
(Sting)
Don't think me unkind
Words are hard to find
The only cheques I've left unsigned
>From the banks of chaos in my mind
And when their eloquence escapes me
Their logic ties me up and rapes me
De do do do, de da da da
Is all I want to say to you
De do do do, de da da da
Their innocence will pull me through
De do do do, de da da da
Is all I want to say to you
De do do do, de da da da
They're meaningless and all that's true
Poets, priests and poiticians
Have words to thank for their positions
Words that scream for your submission
And no one's jamming their transmission
'Cos when their eloquence escapes you
Their logic ties you up and rapes you
De do do do, de da da da
Is all I want to say to you
De do do do, de da da da
Their innocence will pull me through
De do do do, de da da da
Is all I want to say to you
De do do do, de da da da
They're meaningless and all that's true
[De do do do, de da da da
Is all I want to say to you
De do do do, de da da da
Their innocence will pull me through
De do do do, de da da da
Is all I want to say to you
De do do do, de da da da
They're meaningless and all that's true]
. . .
|
|
. . .
|
|
(Sting)
I'd invite you back to my place
It's only mine because it holds my suitcase
It looks home to me alright
But it's a hundred miles from yesterday night
Must I be the man in a suitcase
Is it me, the man with the stranger's face
Must I be the man in a suitcase
Is it me, the man with the stranger's face
Another key for my collection
For security I race for my connection
Bird in a flying cage you'll never get to know me well
The world's my oyster a hotel room's a prison cell
Must I be the man in a suitcase
Is it me, the man with the stranger's face
Must I be the man in a suitcase
Is it me, the man with the stranger's face
I'd invite you back to my place
It's only mine because it hold my suitcase
It looks like home to me alright
But it's a hundred miles from yesterday night
(Repeat chorus to fade)
. . .
|
|
(Sting)
Woke up in my clothes again this morning
Don't know exactly where I am
And I should heed my doctor's warning
He does the best with me he can
He claims I suffer from delusions
Yet I'm so confident I'm sane
It can't be no optical illusion
So how can you explain
Shadows in the rain
And if you see us on the corner
And we're dancing in the rain
I join my friends there when I see them
Outside my window pane
Shadows in the rain
Shadows in the rain
Shadows in the rain
Shadows in the rain
Woke up in my clothes again this morning
Don't know exactly where I am
I should heed my doctor's warning
He does the best with me he can
Shadows in the rain
Shadows in the rain
Shadows in the rain
Shadows in the rain
. . .
|
The Other Way of Stopping |
. . .
|