Don't Bite Me There! A Tribute to Indians In Moscow
 
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Is that what I said?

Now this is a knotty one... No intention to intrude on the copyright of blah blah, non-profit making site yadda-yadda... you've heard it all before. So, what we're going to do is this: post a few MP3s and a few of the lyrics. Any objections, please contact us and we'll remedy the situation ASAP, and think of something else to go here.



MP3 Files

Is That What I Said?
demo, 1982, 1.0MB
Multigreen
demo, 1982, 1.3MB
Balance
demo, 1982, 1.0MB
Dies Irae
Big Wheel EP version, 1.8MB
Howard's at Lunch
LP version, 1.6MB
Jack Pelter
LP version, 1.2MB
Witches and Heroes
LP version, 1.8MB
Naughty Miranda
live, 12 May 1984, 2.4MB
Squaredance in the Sepulchre
live, 27 July 1984, 1.3MB
Call a Spade a Spade
live, 27 July 1984, 1.4MB

written by Indians in Moscow, © 1983/1984 Kennick Music Ltd

thanks be to Matt Kinska


Lyrics

Is That What I Said?

The fly in the soapdish
On his back, legs a-flailing
A spectacular last performance
For the slob in the bath
It's been a long long long long summer
Every second older
Dreams we had of leaving
Will be best left till next year

Is that what I said?
Is that the time already my dear?
We'll have to move on
Some other time maybe
Move on

Me in a soapdish
You in a soapdish
Trapped here in a sticky mess
Remarkably we'll both get out
But lose a second skin
Habit has a dignity
Useful to its users
Dreams we had of taking stock
Will soon be left behind

Is that what I said?
Is that the time already my dear?
We'll have to move on
Some other time maybe
Is that what I said?
We'll have to move on
Is that what I said?
I take it all back

Salt

Hoo! Hah! Hoo! Hah!
It could be a piece of cake
It could be easy to take
Could give you a run for cash
Could tell you things you never have had told to you

It could jerk your arms akimbo
Or grip you by the heel
Bruise you black and blue
And make the bruises bleed

Hoo! Hah! Hoo! Hah!
Don't show me an iron skirt
Skin a smooth thigh - no bruise hurt
It could be an officer in drag
Could tell you things you never have had told to you

It could jerk your arms akimbo
Or grip you by the heel
Bruise you black and blue
And make the bruises bleed

To you, a message inscribe
So after he, these words survive
She was under when you weren't there
Could get to like this feeling
It's fresher

It could jerk your arms akimbo
Or grip you by the heel
Bruise you black and blue
And make the bruises bleed

It could pull the rug from underfoot
To catch you as you fall
Or not be there at all
Or not be there at all
It could kiss you in the crowd
Or kick you when we're home
But it's not salt
It'll never be salt

Indians in Moscow

Read all the papers
There's nothing to say
The last issue
Won't be out today
This is normal, they say
Clue on the black chequered paper?
Indians in Moscow

News will read you
All shining out
News will read you
All shining out
Russian dolls in blackened wood
And generations question
Prints or repetition?
Tribes over-run

No order of this kind
Picture the chaos here

Squares dissolve to another design
Of the present
Safety here! No light!
Sand in the glass
Sinking basic colours into grey
Tribes over-run

Cataclysmic spires
Are overdone today

You have to write an essay
But your pen is running
For president
Indians in Moscow

lyrics by Adele Nozedar, © 1983 Kennick Music Ltd


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