Violets Songtext
von Momus

A territorial drum is a waltz on a loaded gun
The viper flexes, coiling on the vine
And the irises are sinking in the rain
Idiots drown the sound of a distant train
The blind man plays his instrument and sings
In the Irish sea the ichthyosaurus swims

The Reverend Ian Paisley grabs his God and shouts
The Pope sits in the Vatican and doubts
The generous American is loosening his belt
Savouring his childhood in an after-dinner mint
And the rosebuds are sinking in the rain
Radios drown the sound of a distant train
The blind man four leaves resin on the strings
In the Irish sea the rattle snake swims


On the feast day of St. Patrick like the poet Valery
A soldier pours a glass of blood red wine into the sea
The sun can never shine through the censorship of clouds
In this city of open secrets and sudden shrouds
While the asters are sinking in the rain
Automatics drown the sound of a distant train
The blind old man′s accordion is torn
In the Irish sea the adders swarm

And in the Ballerina Funhouse a widow goes to bits
And sometimes she remembers him and sometimes she just sits
And as for the troubles, don't count us out
Sometimes we′re unbiased observers, sometimes louts
While the tiger lilies crumple in the rain
Television drowns the sound of a distant train
The blind man pours the spit from an old trombone
In the Irish sea the tapeworms twist and turn

The moon is a sergeant major who rises and recruits
In the terraces of Belfast, in the back streets of Beirut
Sitting on a bed while I watch you from behind
Skinny as a child, guilt free, your face unlined
While the violets are sinking in the rain
Videos drown the sound of a distant train
The blind old man has smashed his violin
In the Irish sea the vipers return


It could have been your conscience but I guess that never works
So treat me like an equal till it hurts
I violetti si arrendono per te
I canali e la torre di Babel
I violini piangono perché
Io sto morendo in questo hotel
I violetti si arrendono per te
I canali e la torre di Babel
I violini piangono perché
Io sto morendo in questo hotel