We Call Upon The Author Lyrics - Dig!!! Lazarus Dig!!! - Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds

What we once thought we had, we didn't 

And what we have now will never be that way again 

So we call upon the author to explain 

Our myxomatoid kids spraddle the streets 

We've shunned them from the greasy-grind 

The poor little things they look so sad and old 

As they mount us from behind 

I ask them to desist and to refrain! 

Then we call upon the author to explain 

Well, rosary clutched in his hand 

He died with tubes up his nose 

And a cabal of angels with finger cymbals 

Chanted his name in code 

We sour fists at the punishing rain 

And we called upon the author to explain 

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He said, everything is messed up round here 

Everything is banal and jejune 

There is a planetary conspiracy against the likes of you and me 

In this idiot constituency of the moon 

Well, he knew exactly who to blame! 

And we call upon the author to explain 

Prolix! Prolix! 

Nothing a pair of scissors can't fix 

Well, I go guruing down the street 

And young people gather round my feet 

And they ask me things - but I don't know where to start 

They ignite the powder-trail straight to my father's heart 

And, yeah, once again 

I call upon the author to explain 

Who is this great burdensome slavering dog-thing 

That mediocres my every thought? 

I feel like a vacuum cleaner - a complete sucker! 

It's fucked up and he is a fucker 

But what an enormous and encyclopaedic brain! 

I call upon the author to explain 

Rampant discrimination 

Mass poverty, third world debt 

Infectious disease, global inequality 

And deepening socio-economic divisions 

Well, it does in your brain 

We call upon the author to explain 

Now hang on 

My friend Doug is tapping on the window! 

Hey Doug, how you been? (hey Doug) 

Well, he brings me a book on holocaust poetry - complete with pictures 

And then he tells me to get ready for the rain 

And we call upon the author to explain 

Prolix! Prolix! 

Something a pair of scissors can fix! 

Bukowski was a jerk! 

Berryman was best! 

He wrote like wet papier maché 

But he went the Hemming-way 

Weirdly on wings and with maximum pain 

We call upon the author to explain 

Down in my bolthole I see they've published 

Another volume of unreconstructed rubbish 

"The waves, the waves were soldiers moving" 

Well, thank you - thank you! 

Thank you and again 

I call upon the author to explain 

Prolix! Prolix! 

Nothing a pair of scissors can't fix