Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song London 1888, artist - Momus. Date of issue: 18.08.2016
Song language: English
London 1888 |
| Cellophane grandfather clock |
| I hope your hands will never stop |
| Rescue me from this ugly block |
| In Tokyo, 21st century |
| It’s London, 1888 |
| I am descended from a great |
| Clan of the Meiji shogunate |
| And I am travelling extensively |
| It’s London 1888 |
| I sit here drinking nettle wine |
| My family is in decline |
| And I confess the fault is mine |
| The doorman’s sure to sit and wait |
| To see who I’ll bring home tonight |
| I’ll pay him cash to keep him quiet |
| I am a libertine |
| Cellophane grandfather clock |
| You’ve got my conscience in the dock |
| You’ve got me walking round the block |
| You’ve got me searching for experience |
| Cellophane grandfather clock |
| I am a Buddhist, I am not |
| Victorian, I love your shops |
| But your morality is meaningless |
| It’s London 1888 |
| And I have learned the game of chess |
| I have a club, it’s on the Strand |
| I’m a dishonourable man |
| And Tokyo is far away |
| The English wear a poker face |
| The latest craze is called 'Croquet' |
| I am a stranger here |
| I am the Marquis Matsugae |
| And I came questioning through time |
| But is the grave the sole reply? |
| And Sherlock Holmes is my good friend |
| I have a trust fund I can spend |
| And I am ready to defend |
| My immorality to anyone |
| And Whistler painted me in grey |
| I had his mother round to stay |
| And she sat knitting in her chair |
| And staring through me disapprovingly |
| And Aubrey Beardsley sketches me |
| And Oscar Wilde comes round for tea |
| But I still feel so Japanese |
| When I’m alone on Piccadilly |
| And in Green Park there is a band |
| Medieval lillie in my hand |
| I watch the sailors on the bus |
| A little lustfully |
| I am the Marquis Matsugae |
| I came adventuring in time |
| But is the grave the sole reply? |
| Cellophane grandfather clock |
| I hear you tick while I talk |
| In my apartment on Pall Mall |
| To stable boys of easy provenance |
| Cellophane grandfather clock |
| The incense on my mantelpiece |
| Covers the reek of smelly socks |
| As I prepare them to be compromised |
| It’s London 1888 |
| It’s 6 o’clock and I am late |
| For some disreputable date |
| With sordid appetites I hate |
| I hope these crimes will never stop |
| And like the hands upon the clock |
| My hands will touch and he’ll respond |
| And go beyond |
| It’s London 1888 |
| I am the Marquis Matsugae |
| And I came questioning through time |
| And is the grave my sole reply? |