Read (Discography): Live at the Roxy, London (1977)

The Commercial

[instrumental]

Mary Is A Dyke

[words by George Gill—lost in the mists of time]

Too True

Too true, too true

Saying something's got to be a way
Of saying nothing in another way
Don't use your ears, don't use your eyes
I'll give you something, don't you realise

I've got something, you've got nothing, and it's
Too true, too true

Look again and I might have changed
I'm just the same, only rearranged
I'm in the mirror, only you ain't looked
A missing page from your picture book

Just Don't Care

Just don't care now

I just don't care, I just don't care
I just, I just, I just don't care anymore

Oh no, oh yeah, oh no

Would you like to see what that silence was meant to mean?
Would you like to see what violence these eyes could send?

But I just don't know
You know, 'cause I just don't care

Strange

There's something strange going on tonight
Something going on that's not quite right
Joey's nervous and the lights are bright
There's something going on that's not quite right

There's something going down that wasn't here before
Keep your eyes glued to the floor
No one's gonna save your life
Something strange is going on tonight

Brazil

It's true darling, I'll walk you home, I'll be your date forever
I love you girl, I love you, until they split the atom

So many times there's nothing left, there's nothing left at all
I know I'm right, 'cause when you're gone, there's nothing left at all

Left, right, salute

It's So Obvious

It's so obvious, it's here, it's there
It's not just the colour, it must be more
At least 17+3 score
This is '77, nearly heaven
It's black, white, and pink, just think
There's more to come
Hum hum hum hum
It's so obvious

Well it's all right, just listen, can't wait for '78
God those RPM, can't wait for them, don't just watch
Hours happen, get in there kid and snap them

Three Girl Rhumba

Think of a number, divide it by two,
something is nothing, nothing is nothing.
Open a box, tear off the lid,
then think of a number, don't think of an answer.
Open your eyes, think of a number,
don't get swept under, a number's a number

A chance encounter you want to avoid, the inevitable,
so you do, oh yes you do the impossible

Now you ain't got a number, you just want to rhumba,
and there ain't no way you're gonna go under

Go under

TV

Well, I hope you feel better
I can fly a jet a
And the water feels wetter
Any girl, I can get her

On TV

I can fly to India
Afghanistan, America
Any place I want to see
Any place I want to be

I could make a million cry
Sit down, see them die
I can be anyone
It's a lot of fun

My TV

And when I've had enough
I don't switch off
I turn my set to channel 3
It's the only place to be

Straight Line

My mind is unwilling and your flesh is so weak
Do my movements betray the secrets I think?
I always stand by walls and try to humour fools

Am I moving in a straight line?

Oh, it's unlust and the one-dimensional boy

Lowdown

The time is too short but never too long
to reach ahead, to project the image,
which will in time become a concrete dream.

Another cigarette, another day,
from A to B, again avoiding C, D, and E,
'cos E is where you play the blues.
Avoiding a death is to win the game,
to avoid relegation, the big E.

Drowning in the big swim, rising to the surface

The smell of you
That's the lowdown

Feeling Called Love

What is this feeling called love?
What is this crazy thing I can't explain anyhow?
What is this feeling called love?
What is this crazy scene I can't work out anyhow?

Maybe I should try it now
Or maybe I should be shy of it now
COs there's nothing you know that can explain it
And there's nothing you know that's worth the pain of it

What is this feeling called love?
What is this thing I can't work out no how?
What is this feeling called love?
What is this thing I don't understand no how?

Gimme love

New York City

I want to go to New York City
Where the buildings are too tall
I want to go to New York City
Where even angels fall
Here comes one now!

I want to learn to say, "Hi, Mac"
And I shall bring a movie back
I want to get too too excited
When I go to New York City
I'm going now

12XU

Saw you in a mag (smoking a fag), kissing a man

I got you in a corner (cottage), got you in a corner

12XU

Mr Suit

I'm tired of being told what to think
I'm tired of being told what to do
I'm tired of f——ing phonies
That's right, I'm tired of you

No, no, no, no, no, no, Mr Suit

You can take your f——ing money and shove it up your arse
'Cause you think you understand, well it's a f——ing farce
I'm tired of f——ing phonies
That's right, I'm tired of you

And if you turn and walk out that door
And take your f——ing money, let me tell you what it's for
I'm tired of f——ing phonies
That's right, I'm tired of you