John Cooper Clarke
John Cooper Clarke
John Cooper Clarke
John Cooper Clarke
John Cooper Clarke
John Cooper Clarke
John Cooper Clarke
John Cooper Clarke
John Cooper Clarke
John Cooper Clarke
John Cooper Clarke
John Cooper Clarke
John Cooper Clarke
A copper's nark...
The cautious talk of a city under suspicion
A perfumed collision...
With the real meaning of a girl
Working in the dark... from the velvet shadows...
In the... black-wood of engines
YOU'RE in suspension...
In the best of all possible worlds
Furnished rooms...
In tune... with the frozen taste of money
A broken television
Flickers in the corner of one eye
A variety show
That goes below......the freezing point of numbers
To understand.....an episode
Of a dream that money can buy
When a necromancer's crucifix....
And fifty dead assistants...
A beer by a dried UP fountain
It's the festival of the spoons: whatever that is
TWO scrumpets dance with rainbow feathers...
On the lines of least resistance...
Into the middle distance...
Of a supermarket tune
Familiar ground....
He stops her breath with the sneak-thief kiss of a roscoe
Love letters from Moscow
Calling for the hard-ware of surprise
In a jealous town...
Where desperation...
Isn't worth the trouble
Meet your double....in an episode...
Of a dream that money can buy
Bye bye love
Say goodnight irene: to the magnetism of the MOMENT
The future fails to feature
Beyond the forcefields of their eyes
Decadant waves: Depraved Danger
Or a plaything of the rodents
Not quite the kind of creature
With whom they socialise