House of Tournabout Songtext
von Edgar Broughton Band

E. Broughton


Sell me more cried the lady
Her wares all hanging down
I′m not a landlord or a tenant
In the house of turnabout
My pride is flat my body fat
My part played on this floor
Pay for me to play
And hang your tears next to mine
One with hope might move in here
Their shadows still intact
To try to find the way we're meant
And not prepared to act
Geraldine was in the club
His face was torn in two
Now he could play with confidence
Again for me and you
Sell me more said the customer
His heroes falling down
Is it I that made you prisoner
In the house of turnabout
She wept I am at fault she said
It′s me that brought you here
Where the Madame's at the peephole
And the bed is full of fear
I'll not keep you in a void
Impossible to fill
Look upon the guest list
And the men that helped me kill
The vestiges of sanity
The bloom that was my pride
And you′re nearly like a brother
As you lie here by my side
Geraldine is beautiful
The smile plays on his face
And I swear if it could happen
I′d be thankful in his place
And I swear if it could happen
I'd be thankful in his place