Lyrics compiled by Matt Taylor

Ballrooms of Mars

You gonna look fine
Primed for dancing
You’re gonna trip and glide
All on the trembling plane
Your diamond hands will be stacked with roses
And wind and cars and people of the past

I'll call you thing
Just when the moon sings
And place your face in stone upon the hill of stars
And gripped in the arms of the changeless madman
We'll dance our lives away in the Ballrooms of Mars

You talk about day
I'm talking ‘bout night time
When the monsters call out the names of men
Bob Dylan knows and I bet Alan Freed did
There things in night that better not to behold

You dance with your lizard leather boots on
And pull the strings that change the faces of men
You diamond browed bog
You’re o gutter- gaunt gangster
John Lennon knows your name and I’ve seen his