Masseuse Lyrics - Richard Dawson

Fortune wags its tongue 

Along the walkways of the bathhouse 

They say the monk returned from Iceland 

Unearthly boon in stow 

He who possesses the Pin of Quib 

Is granted eternal beauty 

I am tired of men 

Of kneading the knots from their bulbous backs and necks 

And rinsing their filmy water 

From this mew of tiles 

When I heard tell of the Pin of Quib 

Straight away I knew I had to hold it at all costs 

A storm like a drum 

Encompasses the priory 

As I go on mouse-toes 

Into the blind man's chamber 

And leaning over his bed 

I push the blade between his ribs 

But then in a flash he's got my wrists 

And he's pinned me to the floor 

I wake up gagged and bound 

To a windless ochre forest 

The monk's wan face inches from my own 

His breathe smells like pears 

He asked me then 

"would you like to see the Pin?" 

Retching on his filth 

I nod "more than anything" 

From inside his coat 

He fishes a broache 

A plain pea of stone 

No bigger than a thumbnail 

And I can hardly believe 

How very ordinary it seems 

Then it dawns on me 

It was all mere folly 

"Yes, now you see 

The Pin's a pebble only 

That which you so thirstily 

Coveted over my dead body 

Now it is yours to keep 

You are it's custodian 

But first I must have your eyes 

Then the circle will be whole" 

I once 

Could see 

But now 

I am blind 

And all sense 

Of the world is 

Lost 

Lost 

Lost 

I once 

Could see 

But now 

I am blind 

And all sense 

Of the world is 

Lost 

Lost 

Lost