Lyrics The Berlin Conference - The Burning Hell

The Berlin Conference - The Burning Hell
Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song The Berlin Conference, artist - The Burning Hell. Album song Baby, in the genre
Date of issue: 16.03.2009
Record label: Weewerk
Song language: English

The Berlin Conference

Why have I called you here?
I guess I’ve got a thing for meetings
But please, take a chair, let’s get past the formal greetings
It’s so cold outside, let’s ponder wandering the tropics
And get to work tabling the topics that we’re here to discuss
Disgust runs through my northern veins when I consider what we’re wasting
think of the southern gains we could all be tasting
speaking of taste, waiter, another gin and tonic
Don’t look at me that way, Teutonic thirst is chronic and this is thirsty work.
Let’s not be gentle, gentleman, this project’s continental
Oh, don’t worry about that spill, friend, the tablecloths are rentals
Pass me the map and the brandy, I’ve got a pen already
Where’s the ruler?
Where’s the compass?
Ready, hold it steady… now,
will you look at that!
Some call us rivals, they say we’ve got interests not friends
Well you say tomato, and I say dividends
Divided we stand but united we’ll do business
is this civilized or what?
Can I get a witness, let’s sign this and light a
cigar!
Oh, far be it for me to presume or decide
I just called the meeting I’m not taking sides
Side of beef?
Cider?
More port or maybe champagne
from the cellar, oh waiter we’ll need you again
It’s best to be under the influence, oh
When deciding our spheres of influence, no
Scrambling’s for eggs not for colonization
Sit settle down just relax and be patient
Here is a piece of the pie for you, and here is a piece of the pie for you too
And for you, no pie, after all you came late!
Do you ask for a kiss on the very
first date
So lodge a complaint, it’s a hodgepodge a paint by numbers call it whatever you
want
But let’s focus on finding a final agreement, OK?
I’m too drunk to think any
more and I say
50 is the magic number, wormless are the birds who slumber
in three months we’ll do it let’s begin

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Artist lyrics: The Burning Hell