@ALBUM: In The Flat Field
-- CAD 13 CD on 4AD records (1980)
BAUHAUS
1. Dark Entries (AXIS 3A) 3.51
2. Double Dare 4.54
3. In the Flat Field 4.59
4. God in an Alcove 4.08
5. Dive 2.11
6. Spy in the Cab 4.28
7. Smalltalk Stinks 3.33
8. St. Vitus Dance 3.29
9. Stigmata Martyr 3.41
10. Nerves 7.04
11. Telegram Sam (AD17T) 2.08
12. Rosegarden Funeral 5.31
of Sores (AD17T)
13. Terror Couple Kill 4.22
Colonel (AD7A)
14. Scopes (AD7AA) 1.28
15. Untitled (AXIS 3B) 1.24
16. God in an Alcove (AD 3) 4.08
17. Crowds (AD17T) 3.13
Total Running Time: 61.41
@SONG: Dark Entries
Caressing bent up to the jug again
With sheaths and pills
Invading all those stills
In a hovel of a bed
I will scream in vain
Oh please, miss lane
Leave me with some pain
Went walking through this city's neon lights
In fear of disguising my warping seathing
Pressure lines and graceless heirs
Intangible of price
Trying so hard to find what? what was right
I came upon your room it stuck into my head
We leapt into the bed degrading even lice
You took delight in taking down
All my shielded pride
Until exposed became my darker side
Puckering up and down some avenue of sin
Too cheap to ride they're worth a try
If only for the old times, cold times
Don't go waving your pretentious love
He's soliciting on his tan brown brogues
Girating through some lonesome devils row
Pinpointing well meaning upper class prey
Of walking money checks possessing holes
He often sleekly offers his services
Exploitation of his finer years
Work with loosely woven fabrics
Of lonely office clerks
Any lay suffices his dollar green eye
@SONG: Double Dare
I dare you, to be real
To touch a flickering flame
The pangs of dark delight
Don't cower in night fright.
Don't back away just yet
From destinations set
I dare you to be proud
To dare to shout aloud
For convictions that you feel
Like sound from bells to peal
I dare you to speak of your despire
For bureaucracy, hypocracy--all liars
I dare
I dare
I dare -- You -- You
@SONG: In The Flat Field
A gut pull drag on me
Into the chasm gaping we
Mirrors multy reflecting this
Between spunk stained sheet
And odourous whim
Calme eye-flick-shudder within
Assist me to walk away in sin
Where is the string that Theseus laid
Find me out this labyrinth place.
I do get bored, I get bored
In the flat field.
I get bored, I do get bored
In the flat field
Yin and yang lumber punch
Go taste a tart, then eat my lunch
And force my slender thin and lean
In this solemn place of fill wetting dreams
Of black matted lace of pregnant cows
As life maps out onto my brow
The card is lowered in index turn
Into my filing cabinet hemispheres spurn.
I do get bored, I get bored
In the flat field.
I get bored, I do get bored
In the flat field
Let me catch the slit of light
For a maidens sake
On a maiden flight
In the flat field I do get bored
Replace with Piccadilly whores
In my yearn for some cerebral fix
Transfer me to that solid plain
Hammer me into blazen pain
Moulding shapes no shame to waste
Moulding shapes no shame to waste
And drag me there with deafening haste.
@SONG: A God in an Alcove
- --- -- -- ------
Go and look for the dejected once proud
Idol remembered in stone aloud
Then on coins his face was mirrored
Take a look it soon hath slithered
To a fractured marble slab, renunciation clad
His nourishment extract from his subjects
That mass production profile.
He's a God -- in -- in an alcove.
Once he spread the rain
So they dreamt in vain
Once he spread the wheat
Had made garlands for his feet
Until the lily poet of our times
Horizoned on the line
Love became the in theme then
Opposing fakers thrice by ten
Don't perceive his empty plea
That redundant effigy.
He's a God -- in -- in an alcove.
Take in view his empty stool
What's left is satin cool
Clawing adornment for his crimes
They saw they had to draw the line
So they sent him far away
So they sent him far away
To a little alcove
To a little alcove
All alone.
He's a God, a God.
Now I am silly
Now I am silly
Silly, silly, silly, silly,
Silly.
@SONG: Dive
We're going down
We're going down
We're going down
To the kamikaze dive
Fishnet leatherette
Pussy Galore
Psuedo sumo wrestler
On the door
Dangerous dances
The dragons claw
K-Tel oriental
The monkey's paw.
You're a dead ringer for Madame Butterfly
Snappy little fingers
Stitch my thigh
You're so necromantic
Venomous and vain
Mixing molotov cocktails
In the subterrain
We're going down to the kamikazi dive
Like insects in a Chinese lantern now
We're feeling so alive, what's showing?
We're going down to the kamikazi dive.
Like manic moths in Chinese lanterns now
We're feeling so alive, what's showing?
@SONG: The Spy in the Cab
Hidden in the dashboard
The unseen mechanized eye
Under surveillance
The road is full of cats eyes
It's sick function to pry
The spy in the cab.
Coldly observing -- Callously reserving
A drivers time
Automated autonomy
Playing on his mind
The spy in the cab.
The spy in the cab.
An eye for an eye
A spy for an eye
An eye for an eye
A spy for a spy.
A twenty four hour unblinking watch
Installed to pry
Installed to cop
The spy in the cab.
The spy in the cab.
The spy in the cab.
I spy with my little eye spy with my little I spy with my
Little eye spy with my little I spy ..... spy ..... spy.
@SONG: Smalltalk Stinks
Small talk stinks
Small talk stinks
Small talk stinks
Small talk stinks
See the young man in his new gown
Talking up to his bouffant drag
He says he loves you with flowers
Something that he's never had
A sentence should be like a serpent
Quick with a sting in its tail
String me a line that has meaning and depth
There's no small talk with walky talkies
Small talk stinks.
I said it stinks
Small talk stinks
Small talk stinks.
You whisper sweet nothings chit-chat-back-chat
There's no idle gossip in braille
Taking combs three times an day
Twice an hour
Indentikit cute lips from wall to wall
Stand in line for the photo call
See the young man in his new gown
Talking up to his bouffant drag
Small talk stinks
Small talk stinks
Small talk stinks
Small talk stinks.
@SONG: St. Vitus Dance
Back in the good old days when dancing meant exploding
The idea was simple for a decent overloading
And for a multiple flash with no chords attached
He came up with a more remote flash trigger
It's connected to an accessory in his hip
Which automatically fires in perfect synchro
But perhaps his most exciting development is his angle
They call it the dance
It's the St. Vitus dance
Such flexibility
What an accessory
See his soft bounce
What flexibility
Such a soft bounce
What an accessory.
And for special effects he has six filters
Three coloured red with the others pilfered
And if you really want to know what that means
He could throw a blue flash from eighty five feet
Of course you might want to check your own little output
So we devised a few simple and easy to crack contortions
So you can bump and scrape all the day through
With the dance, it's the St. Vitus dance, the St. Vitus dance
Such flexibility, what an accessory, such a soft bounce
What flexibility, such a soft bounce, check his hot shoe, feel his output
He's a light machine, see his angle
He's a light machine.
@SONG: Stigmata Martyr
In a crucifixation ecstasy
Lying cross chequed in agony
Stigmata bleed continuously
Holes in head, hands feet, and weep for me.
Stigmata oh you sordid sight
Stigmata in your splintered plight
Look to your crimson orifice
In holy rememberance
In scarlet bliss.
Stigmata Martyr
@SONG: Nerves
Nerve ends tick in flicker book animation
One eye's closed in fear, anticipation
Will it stay shut? Will it ever open?
What if?
What if?
Nerves.
Tell tale tongues lick at seven senses
Brittle spittle sparks you are defenceless
The fabric of dreams is ripped apart
As you feel the twist of the shadowed dagger
In your pumping heart
Nerves.
Nerves like nylon, Nerves like steel
Nerves like nylon, Nerves like steel
Nerves like nylon, Nerves like steel
A trail of random cutlery cuts a dash in the concrete underpass
Sense of serenity is shattered in the glint of splintered glass.
Nerves.
Nerves.
Nerves.
Nerves like nylon, Nerves like steel
Nerves like nylon, Nerves like steel
Nerves like nylon, Nerves like steel
@SONG: Telegram Sam
@SONG: Rosegarden Funeral of Sores
@SONG: Terror Couple Kill Colonel
His eyes were heavy
He carried a card
One couple questioned,
the other discharged
Terror couple kill colonel
In his West German home
Three shots from three feet
Dragged himself to the phone
Terror couple kill colonel
Terror couple kill colonel
And as he lay there
Playing games with his pain
He felt his choice of jobs
Was such a mistake
He could have been a doctor in a soft easy chair
Instead he chose three stars
A territorial affair
Terror couple kill colonel
Terror couple kill colonel
In his West German Home
In his West German Home
In his West German Home
@SONG: Scopes
Scopes
Scopes
Scopes
Scopes
Electroscope
Galvanascope
Hydroscope
Polemescope
Telescope
Microscope
Sizemoscope
Periscope
Polariscope
Kaleidoscope
Stethoscope
The twenty scopes
The twenty scopes
The twenty scopes
The twenty scopes
The twenty scopes
@SONG: Untitled
@SONG: God in an Alcove
@SONG: Crowds
BAUHAUS ARE
KEVIN HASKINS
DAVID JAY
PETER MURPHY
DANIEL ASH
Produced by Bauhaus
All titles written by Bauhaus
Published by Beggars Banquet Music Ltd.
Except Telegram Sam (Bolan) Wizard Artists Ltd.
and Rosegarden Funeral of Sores (Cale) Copyright Control
Track 1 originally released as AXIS 3A
Tracks 2 to 10 originally released as CAD 13
Tracks 11 - 12 - 17 originally released as AD 17T
Tracks 13 & 14 originally released as AD 7A
Track 15 originally released as AXIS 3B
Track 16 originally released as a 7" flexi-disc