Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Love on Ice, artist - Momus. Album song Tender Pervert, in the genre Инди
Date of issue: 14.08.1988
Record label: Cherry Red
Song language: English
Love on Ice |
We’re all cuddles and smiles |
At the press photocall |
Though you hate to touch me |
And I couldn’t love you at all |
Because I’m not an ordinary guy |
And you’re not an ordinary girl |
But that’s how we have to appear now we’re |
The best in the world |
And The Sun is uncharacteristically wise |
When it captions the photograph |
'Love on ice' |
Love on ice |
One perfect couple on four perfect blades |
We execute two perfect figures of eight |
We accept the bouquets but we’d just like to say |
Before these flowers wither like all accolades |
I’m only doing this for Christopher |
And you’re only doing it for Jane |
In the Radio Times and on breakfast TV |
Our faces appear because young healthy faces |
Are what the world’s dying to see |
In an advert promoting a diet |
We skate to a halt and say 'Try it!' |
But how could a straight have a figure or skate |
Without my anxiety? |
And the caption they use in the Radio Times |
And over their products is |
'Love on ice' |
Love on ice |
One perfect couple on four perfect blades |
We execute two perfect figures of eight |
We accept the bouquets but we’d just like to say |
Before these flowers wither like all accolades |
We want to come out of the closet |
We’d give up the life of the stars |
If Christopher wasn’t our manager |
And Jane didn’t do our cocaine and our PR |
It began to go wrong |
But the press wouldn’t leave us alone |
We lost to a couple of Soviets who skated like robots |
And when we came home |
The tabloids said I’d died of AIDS |
And you’d set up camp with the Greenham Brigades |
And the serious papers we offered our story said 'Sorry' |
And slammed down the phone |
But in City Limits they mentioned us twice |
In a feature and letter they titled respectively |
'Love on ice' and 'Gay love on Ice' |
One perfect couple on four perfect blades |
We execute two perfect figures of eight |
But the ice is a mirror in which people see |
Their nation and their sexuality |
And now we’ve come out of the closet |
No-one remembers our names |
And Christopher isn’t our manager |
And we need the PR more than Jane needs our cocaine |