℗ 1974 Chrysalis Records CHR 1058
℗ 1997 ÎÎÎ "Êîìïàíèÿ "ÄÎÐÀ" JPCD 9705318
«Exotic Birds and Fruit» is the seventh full-length studio album by British progressive rock band PROCOL HARUM. One was recorded during the winter of 1973~74 at AIR Studios at a period in British history when a three–day working week was imposed. A studio generator had to be cranked into action in order to complete the album for its scheduled release in the Spring of 1974. |
(Gary Brooker — Keith Reid)
It seems as clear as yesterday We saw it in a dream But dream became insanity An awful gaping scream So sad to see such emptiness So sad to see such tears And heaped up leaves of bitterness Turned mouldy down the years Nothing but the truth. Common words in use Hard to find excuse Harder than the truth Like Icarus we flew too high We flew too near the sun They caught us in that awful glare Our hapless throats were strung But just before the final stroke They took us victims of the rope And cast us far beyond the deep To lie in never ending sleep It seems as clear as yesterday They cast us in the deep We lie in darkest night for good Never ending sleep A never ending bitter gloom Whose darkness seldom clears A God forsaken emptiness Which fills our hearts with tears
(Gary Brooker — Keith Reid)
Who will search for Holy Grail Past the edge beyond the veil Who will come beyond the light Far from reach beyond all sight Who will share this bitter cup Let the wild dogs tear them up Let the cold winds blow them down Drive them deep beneath the ground Who will live in darkest night Dankest gloom and quietest quiet Far from any human sound Buried deep beneath the ground Who will search for treasure trove Scour the seas and scale the globe Past the peaks beyond the heights Farmost reaches furthest sights Who will share this bitter cup Let the wild dogs tear them up Let the cold winds blow them down Drive them deep beneath the ground
(Gary Brooker — Keith Reid)
Psychiatrists and Lawyers destroying mankind Driving them crazy… and stealing them blind Bankers and Brokers ruling the world Storing the silver and hoarding the gold Ain't no use in preachers preaching When they don't know what they're teaching The weakest man be strong as Samson When you're being held to ransom Famine and hardship in true living colour Constant reminders… the plight of our brother Daily starvation our diet of news Fed to the teeth with a barrage of views Ain't no use in preachers preaching When they don't know what they're teaching The weakest man be strong as Samson When you're being held to ransom Black men and white men, and Arabs and Jews Causing congestion and filling the queues Fighting for freedom the truth and the word Fighting the war for the end of the world Ain't no use in preachers preaching When they don't know what they're teaching Weakest man be strong as Samson When you're being held to ransom
(Gary Brooker — Keith Reid)
Oh the idol, Oh the idol They knew the monster's every trick They knew his secrets every stitch All of it had been a game Nothing but a charlatan Perhaps there was a chance of coming through It even seemed that he might think it too But he could see no point in diving in He knew that he would neither sink nor swim So they found he'd nothing left to say Just another idol turned to clay Just another idol turned to clay It seemed to them he must know what to do They knew that only he could pull them through They thought that he would make a plan He'd work it out, he'd understand Like drowning men they clutched at every straw They knew that he had saved them all before But he could see no point in diving in He knew that he would neither sink nor swim So they found he'd nothing left to say Just another idol turned to clay Just another idol turned to clay Oh the idol, Oh the idol Oh the idol, Oh the idol Oh the idol (just another idol turned to clay) Oh the idol (just another idol turned to clay) Oh the idol (just another idol turned to clay) Oh the idol (just another idol turned to clay) Oh the idol (just another idol turned to clay) Oh the idol (just another idol turned to clay)
(Gary Brooker — Keith Reid)
Picture… Rush Story… Hush Got the picture Got the rush Got the story Got the hush Got the joker Got the flush Got the choker Got the crush Picture… Rush Story… Hush Got the wrong side of the bed Got the wrong slice of the spread Got the thin end of the wedge Took the wrong bend on the edge Picture… Screen Movie… Dream Got the picture Got the screen Got the movie Got the dream Got the make-up Got the seam Got the wake up Got the scream Picture… Screen Movie… Dream
(Gary Brooker — Keith Reid)
The bell on my door rang this morning From the kitchen I called "Who's that there?" Through the letter box came a grappling hook Which grappled me right out of my chair! Stretched out on the floor I lay helpless Of my limbs I had lost all command When into my ear instilling fear Said a voice "I am Monsieur R. Monde" "Monsieur R. Monde you are not! That's an incredible thing to say For I personally attended his funeral Which was twelve months to this very day!" A rat flew down from the ceiling Alighted upon my right ear Said "If Monsieur R. Monde is safe under the sod Then why are you shaking with fear!" "My name is not Scrooge" I said faintly "and from ghosts I have nothing to fear! But if you are R. Monde returned from the dead Then what are you wanting here?" From nowhere I heard a mad cackle From nowhere a voice to me cried "Stop calling me Monsieur R. Monde you fool! My name's Jekyll and you're Mr. Hyde!"
(Gary Brooker — Keith Reid)
In praise of fruit I wrote this song Because of fruit my heart is strong Who could estimate its worth? Fruit's the finest food on earth Fresh fruit, juice and seeds Please don't touch, please don't squeeze Fresh fruit, juice and pulp Like to gulp the whole lot up Here's another point of view Fruit is good for doggies too Rover wags his tail with glee When he gets his vitamin C Have you caught a touch of flu And you can't think what to do Famous doctors all agree Fruit's the safest remedy Fresh fruit, good and sweet Makes you want to give up meat Fresh fruit, ripe and firm Makes them squealing taste-buds squirm.
(Gary Brooker — Keith Reid)
They tell us that we're savages Who haven't got a hope We're burning in the furnaces, We're choking at the smoke They say we haven't got a choice, Refuse to recognise our voice Yet they enjoy commissions From the proceeds of the joke Those Butterfly Boys At play with their toys Stinging like bees Itching like fleas Butterfly Boys You got the toys You got the breeze We caught the freeze Butterfly Boys give us a break We got the groceries you got the cake They tell us that we're savages Who cannot understand We're sailing on a sinking ship, We're swimming in the sand They put their fingers in their ears, Refuse to recognize our fears And fly off to Jamaica When we call them underhand
(Gary Brooker — Keith Reid)
The end of the evening, unable to cope Unique entertainment no longer a joke The close of the picture, the end of the show Merciless torment, torturous blow New lamps for old Bright shiny gold Innocent youth Falsehood for truth The eye of the needle, the loss of the thread Triumphant victor, glorious dead The cause becomes duty; duty's the blow Which kills the picture: death of the show
(Gary Brooker — Keith Reid)
I've been out of weeks for ages I've been on and off the train. I've been losing sheep And counting sleep And I've drunk too much again But I'll take another cup Even though it dry me up Ooh, though I know that I should pass I will take another glass The cellar is empty, the cupboard is bare, I'm joining the church and taking to prayer The landlord's complaining 'cos the rent is outstanding And Old Mother Hubbard's ran off with the chair Though I know it's time to stop I will take another drop Though I know I'm very sick I will take just one more sip Come on Captain, punch my ticket Call my mother's name I once heard That a fly can't bird But I drunk too much again Though I've really drunk a lot I will take another shot Though I know it's a time to pass I will take just one more glass