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Oh My Lord |
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Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds |
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|
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I thought I'd take a walk today |
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It's a mistake I sometimes make |
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Kids lay asleep in bed |
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My wife lay wide-awake |
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I kissed her softly on the brow |
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I tried not to make a sound |
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But with stony eyes she looked at me |
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And gently squeezed my hand |
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Call it a premonition |
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call it a crazy vision |
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Call it intuition |
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something learned from mother |
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But when she looked up at me |
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I could clearly see |
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The Sword of Damocles, |
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hanging directly above her |
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|
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Oh Lord |
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Oh my Lord |
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Oh Lord |
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How have I offended thee? |
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Wrap your tender arms around me |
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Oh Lord |
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Oh Lord |
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Oh My Lord |
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|
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They called at me through the fence |
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They were not making any sense |
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They claimed that I had lost the plot |
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Kept saying that I was not |
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The man I used to be |
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They held their babes aloft |
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Threw marsh mellows at the Security |
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And said that I'd grown soft |
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Call it intuition |
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call it a creeping suspicion, |
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But their words of derision |
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I meant they hardly knew me |
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For even I could see in the way |
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they looked at me |
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The Spear of Destiny , |
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sticking right through me |
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|
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Oh Lord |
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Oh my lord |
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Oh Lord |
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How have I offended thee? |
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Wrap your tender arms round me |
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Oh Lord |
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Oh lord |
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Oh My Lord |
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|
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Now I'm at the hairdressers |
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People watch me as they move past |
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A guy wearing plastic antlers |
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Presses his bum against the glass |
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Now I'm down on my hands and knees |
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And it's so ****ing hot! |
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Someone cries, What are you looking for? |
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I scream, The plot, the plot! |
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I grab my telephone |
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I call my wife at home |
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She screams, Leave us alone! |
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I say, Hey, it's only me |
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The hairdresser with his scissors |
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he holds up the mirror |
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I look back and shiver |
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I can't even believe what I can be |
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|
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Be mindful of the prayers you send |
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Pray hard but pray with care |
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For the tears that you are crying now |
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Are just your answered prayers |
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The ladders of life that we scale merrily |
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Move mysteriously around |
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So that when you think |
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you're climbing up man |
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In fact you're climbing down |
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Into the hollows of glamour, |
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where with spikes and hammer |
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With telescopic camera, |
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they chose to turn the screw |
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Oh I hate them, Ma! |
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Oh I hate them, Pa! |
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Oh I hate them all |
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for what they went and done to you |
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|
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Oh Lord |
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Oh my Lord |
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Oh Lord |
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How have I offended thee? |
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Wrap your tender arms round me |
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Oh Lord |
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Oh Lord |
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Oh My Lord |
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