Angel`s Delight — текст песни (Fatima Mansions, The)

A necklace of rubber, burning bright
A burning rubber necklace for my angel`s delight
A holiday in a box, opportunity knocks
for the rich man`s militia photographing my block
Kill a cop. Why the hell not?

YEAH!! Burn, motherfucker, burn!
I got a word for you: dead
Got a trampoline--your fuckin` head

You roll down my street in your gleaming new car
I`ve got no secrets, cash or time left to give you
but I`ve got something else for you, my friend
A crack in the restless night, a broken bone on the pavement
Angel`s delight was a recurring statement
Burn a bailiff--spill, don`t save it

YEAH!! Burn, motherfucker, burn!
Run, run, run, run!
You can have what you ask, but not in cash
[with a?] credit card, a payment slashed
You can put it where your mouth used to be
You can put it where your dick used to be
You can [...?] looking at me, looking at you
[...?] blacklist, [...?] blacklist
What do you do when words collapse
and all that`s left is broken glass?
I know, I know I`m trapped

I`ve got a holiday in a big oak box
with my friend, the famous PC Plod, Plod, Plod*
Kill a cop, kill a cop,
you lay a hand on me, I`m gonna kill you, cop.
Hey! Let`s all kill some cops.
Some bailiffs.
Assholes.

* PC Plod is a well known and derogatory name for a British
beat cop. It`s capitalized, like John Q. Public.