Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Bedlam, artist - Elvis Costello. Date of issue: 03.07.2005
Song language: English
Bedlam |
| I’ve got this phosphorescent portrait of gentle Jesus meek and mild |
| I’ve got this harlot that I’m stuck with carrying another man’s child |
| The solitary star announcing vacancy burnt out as we arrived |
| They’d throw us back across the border if they knew that we survived |
| And they were surprised to see us So they greeted us with palms |
| They asked for ammunition, acts of contrition and small alms |
| I might recite a small prayer |
| If I ever said them |
| I lay down on an iron frame |
| Found myself in bedlam |
| I wish that I could take something for drowning out the noise |
| Wailing echoes down the corridors |
| I’ve got this imaginary radio, and I’m punching up the dial |
| I’ve got the A.C. trained on the T.V. so it won’t blow up in my eye |
| And everything that I thought fanciful and mocked as too extreme |
| Must be family entertainment here in the strange land of my dreams |
| Now I’m practicing my likeness of St. Francis of Assisi |
| For if I hold my hand outstretched |
| A little bird comes to me |
| I might recite a small prayer |
| If I ever said them |
| I lay down on an iron frame |
| Found myself in bedlam |
| Escaping from the fingers that were stretching through the bars |
| Wailing echoes down the corridors |
| The player piano picks out «Life Goes On» |
| Ring tone rang out «Jerusalem» |
| And in this pit of sadness |
| Where the rank of wretched plunge |
| We’ve buried all the innocents |
| Now we must bury revenge |
| They’ve got this scared and decorated girl strapped to the steel trunk of a mustang |
| And then they drove her down a cypress grove where traitors hang and stars |
| still spangle |
| They dangled flags and other rags along a coloured thread of twine |
| And then they dragged that bruised and purple heart along the road to Palestine |
| Someone went off muttering, he mentioned thirty pieces |
| Easter saw a slaughtering, each wrapped in bloodstained fleeces |
| Then my thoughts returned to vengeance, but I put up no resistance |
| Though I seemed a long way from my home |
| It really was no distance |
| And I might recite a small prayer |
| If I ever said them |
| I lay down on an iron frame |
| Found myself in bedlam |
| Bowing like an actor acknowledging applause |
| Playing the Crusader who was conquering the Moors |
| And he knew the consequences, but he won’t accept the cause |
| Wailing echoes down the corridors |