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London 1888

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Cellophane grandfather clock
I hope your hands will never stop
Rescue me from this ugly block
In Tokyo, 21st century
It's London, 1888
I am descended from a great
Clan of the Meiji shogunate
And I am travelling extensively

It's London 1888
I sit here drinking nettle wine
My family is in decline
And I confess the fault is mine
The doorman's sure to sit and wait
To see who I'll bring home tonight
I'll pay him cash to keep him quiet
I am a libertine

Cellophane grandfather clock
You've got my conscience in the dock
You've got me walking round the block
You've got me searching for experience
Cellophane grandfather clock
I am a Buddhist, I am not
Victorian, I love your shops
But your morality is meaningless

It's London 1888
And I have learned the game of chess
I have a club, it's on the Strand
I'm a dishonourable man
And Tokyo is far away
The English wear a poker face
The latest craze is called 'Croquet'
I am a stranger here

I am the Marquis Matsugae
And I came questioning through time
But is the grave the sole reply?

And Sherlock Holmes is my good friend
I have a trust fund I can spend
And I am ready to defend
My immorality to anyone
And Whistler painted me in grey
I had his mother round to stay
And she sat knitting in her chair
And staring through me disapprovingly

And Aubrey Beardsley sketches me
And Oscar Wilde comes round for tea
But I still feel so Japanese
When I'm alone on Piccadilly
And in Green Park there is a band
Medieval lillie in my hand
I watch the sailors on the bus
A little lustfully

I am the Marquis Matsugae
I came adventuring in time
But is the grave the sole reply?

Cellophane grandfather clock
I hear you tick while I talk
In my apartment on Pall Mall
To stable boys of easy provenance
Cellophane grandfather clock
The incense on my mantelpiece
Covers the reek of smelly socks
As I prepare them to be compromised

It's London 1888
It's 6 o'clock and I am late
For some disreputable date
With sordid appetites I hate
I hope these crimes will never stop
And like the hands upon the clock
My hands will touch and he'll respond
And go beyond

It's London 1888
I am the Marquis Matsugae
And I came questioning through time
And is the grave my sole reply?

Compositor: Nicholas John Currie (Currie Nick)
ECAD: Obra #4470939

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