The Two Sides Of Neil Tennant
To the point where you cannot
And will not vanquish this millstone
That is crushing your self-esteem.
Spirits won't squelch the negative thoughts
You should have found another saviour.
Don't hide in an empty pink restaurant
You go there every night. It looks perfect
You let no-one in. It's your home, right?
Trust: A word foreign to you. For all you know
A hot meal may be served. You see food
As the breeding ground. Accompanying freedom.
You turn your back on me.
Climbing onto the ledge on an infamous bridge
You soar like the wind. Wafting winds on a February morn
You have flown away at long last. Sailing into hell I hope.
My job was to make certain that the man who betrayed me
Would never see daylight again.
Rule Number One: Never turn your back on a stranger.
My first assignment has been a burning success!
And the kid never saw it coming. He was a loser anyway.
I'm finally free! No longer anyone's puppet.
..................... I hate it.
Full of sharp, angry buttons.
They enclose you
Holding sweet, mortal pain
Close to your swollen chest
Struggling to free yourself
The outer casing rips
Tearing a ragged hole
Where your heart should be. `
I tried to tell you this was so wrong.
But you went ahead and did a lot of it.
Are you proud of yourself now?
Does it make you more of a man?
It's not enough that you killed my dog.
Though that alone would cost you dearly.
You destroyed all that I worked so hard for.
Am I angry? Furious & livid beyond belief
These emotions fit me like a freshly ironed shirt
Guilt's a veritable cornucopia: You kissed the Pope
Or so you say. You're not even Catholic!
As if absolution would cure you. Nice try.
What's truly inside your withered body
Wrinkled beyond comprehension?
Here's a mirror you've been hiding behind.
Why should I be your saviour? Why not the Pope?
Look, I could continue this laconic litany of insults
But I'm tired. Break the damned mirror you coward
Because you hate the image you see reflected back to you.
The gifted, kindly
And compassionate souls
Are the ones who pay the heavy price
Of being different. It's been going. Forever.
But, you knew that millstone existed
All too well
That hatred and bigotry have accelerated
To the point where an apex has been reached.
We love you. And that love carries no expiry date
Unlike many others, only hanging around you
Because you're famous. Those talons
Are squeezing you like the jaws of death
So eager to draw celebrity blood from
Just about everyone whose faces
Are tattooed by the Master himself
The only way you can take back
Your dignity and search
For that precious, coveted
Sadness, the painful enemy of joy
Depression will take over any remnants
Of happiness that may have lingered
Do I make you angry? Am I hating you enough?
Shame is a wool sweater, soaked in alcohol
If you wrap it around you--a man swathed in rags
Will rip it off, twist the sweater tightly
And put it to his lips, extracting any booze
That may linger in the strands. He feels no shame
But you most certainly do. You thrive on melodrama
You want attention. It couldn't be more obvious.
Someone who would have to be blind, deaf and dumb.
To waste fleeting time pandering to your noisy desperation.
It's as if reality has fled the scene. One-way ticket to nowhere.
And now I see you've donned a patchwork quilt. Won't your
Granny be cross when she sees all the blood on her handiwork.
Please, I know when you are lying
You wear it like an old tie-dyed shirt.
Living in the past has been trying
But you're the only one that got hurt.
You may have fooled them all
You should have won an Oscar by this time.
Did you not realise that you'd take the fall?
Your naivete got you nailed for the crime.
One day, if you ever come up for parole
You'll shake off your shackles for good.
How do I know? We both own the same soul
And, like it or not, we're from the same neighbourhood.
How is it you never stand up for yourself?
Just what would it take to afford you self-love?
There should be more than just dust on your shelf.
Will you allow me to give you a much-needed shove?
|A scene from the video for Domino Dancing. A beautiful piece of film to accompany a song that's been used as what I call, "A Politically (In) Correct bone of contention. I'll stop here and get off my soapbox.|
|Here's Neil, Chris and George Michael in this touching portrait. RIP George.|
|I've always been a bit spooked by this picture. Freaky. Can you see what I mean?|
|Everyone needs a helping hand to bring them back to life before they die.|
|I like this picture, so I'm putting it here.|
|I don't know who the child is beside Neil, but it looks as if there's some kind of keyboard lessons going on here.|