There She Goes, My Beautiful World

Album: Abattoir Blues/The Lyre of Orpheus (2004)
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  • The wintergreen, the juniper
    The cornflower and the chicory
    Well all of the words you said to me
    Are still vibrating in the air
    The elm, the ash and the linden tree
    The dark and deep, enchanted sea
    The trembling moon and the stars unfurled
    Well there she goes, my beautiful world

    There she goes, my beautiful world
    There she goes, my beautiful world
    There she goes, my beautiful world
    There she goes again

    John Wilmot penned his poetry
    Riddled with the pox
    And Nabokov wrote on index cards
    At a lectern, in his socks
    St. John of the Cross he did his best stuff
    Imprisoned in a box
    And Johnny Thunders was half alive
    When he wrote Chinese Rocks

    Well, me, I'm lying here, with nothing in my ears
    Me, I'm lying here, with nothing in my ears
    Me, I'm lying here, for what seems years
    I'm just lying on my bed with nothing in my head

    Send that stuff on down to me
    Send that stuff on down to me
    Send that stuff on down to me
    Send that stuff on down

    There she goes, my beautiful world
    There she goes, my beautiful world
    There she goes, my beautiful world
    There she goes again

    Karl Marx squeezed his carbuncles
    While writing Das Kapital
    And Gauguin, he buggered off, man
    And went all tropical
    And Philip Larkin, he stuck it out
    In a library in Hull
    And Dylan Thomas, he died drunk in
    St. Vincent's hospital

    I will lie at your feet
    I will kneel at your door
    I will rock you to sleep
    I will roll on the floor
    And I'll ask for nothing
    Nothing in this life
    I'll will ask for nothing
    Give me everlasting life

    I just want to move the world
    I just want to move the world
    I just want to move the world
    I just want to move

    There she goes, my beautiful world
    There she goes, my beautiful world
    There she goes, my beautiful world
    There she goes again

    So if you got a trumpet, get on your feet
    Brother, and blow it
    If you've got a field, that don't yield
    Well get up now and hoe it
    I look at you and you look at me and
    Deep in our hearts babe we know it
    That you weren't much of a muse
    But then I weren't much of a poet

    I will be your slave
    I will peel you grapes
    Up on your pedestal with your ivory and apes
    With your book of ideas with your alchemy
    O come on send that stuff on down to me

    Send that stuff on down to me
    Send that stuff on down to me
    Send that stuff on down to me
    Send that stuff on down to me
    Send it all around
    Send it all around the world
    'Cause here she comes, my beautiful girl

    There she goes, my beautiful world
    There she goes, my beautiful world
    There she goes, my beautiful world
    There she goes, my beautiful world
    There she goes, my beautiful world
    There she goes, my beautiful world
    There she goes again Writer/s: Nicholas Cave
    Publisher: BMG Rights Management
    Lyrics licensed and provided by LyricFind

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