Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Incubus, artist - Fish. Album song The Moveable Feast, in the genre Иностранный рок
Date of issue: 04.12.2016
Record label: Derek W Dick
Song language: English
Incubus |
When footlights dim in reverence to prescient passion forewarned |
My audience leaves the stage, floating ahead perfumed shift |
Within the stammering silence, the face that launched a thousand frames |
Betrayed by a porcelain tear, a stained career |
You played this scene before, you played this scene before |
I am the mote in your eye, I am the mote in your eye |
A misplaced reaction |
The darkroom unleashes imagination in pornographic images |
In which you will always be the star, always be the star, untouchable |
Unapproachable, constant in the darkness |
Nursing an erection, a misplaced reaction |
With no flower to place before this gravestone |
And the walls become enticingly newspaper thin |
But that would be developing the negative view |
And you have to be exposed in voyeuristic colour |
The public act, let you model your shame |
On the mannequin catwalk, catwalk |
Let the cats walk, and the cat walks |
I’ve played this scene before, I’ve played this scene before |
I am the mote in your eye, I am the mote in your eye |
A misplaced reaction, satisfaction |
I’m the irritating speck of dust that came from absolutely nowhere |
You can’t brush me under the carpet, you can’t hide me under the stairs |
The custodian of your private fears, your leading actor of yesteryear |
Who as you crawled out of the alleys of obscurity |
Sentenced to rejection in the morass of anonymity |
You who I directed with lovers will, you who I let hypnotise the lens |
You who I let bathe in the spotlights glare |
You who wiped me from your memory like a greasepaint mask |
Just like a greasepaint mask |
But now I’m the snake in the grass, the ghost of film reels past |
I’m the producer of your nightmare and the performance has just begun |
It’s just begun |
Your perimeter of courtiers jerk like celluloid puppets |
As you stutter paralysed with rabbits eyes, searing the shadows |
Flooding the wings, to pluck elusive salvation from the understudy’s lips |
Retrieve the soliloquy, maintain the obituary |
My cue line in the last act and you wait in silent solitude |
Waiting for the prompt, waiting for the prompt |
You’ve played this scene before |