Intro, stage banter]]

This is a very heavy microphone stand
Aha, no queen could banish this I tell you that
This is a real man's microphone stand 'ere Dave
'Ere, where d'you get these stands from?
They're really heavy
So are you
Well we're gonna do something really heavy in a minute
Like, err, fall off the stage on top of you,
With about two hundredweight of iron in my hand
You're a very tiny person, aren't you? Eh?
You're all very tiny down there
You know, when I'm up here, I feel so big and mighty,
I feel like I'm the
Master
Of the
Universe
You made me feel like that,
And now,
It's almost true
Just wait and see,
What we do

Alright, cut the gypsy music
A band of gypsys

[[Begin song proper(?)]]

All in a day's work, all in, all in
All in a day's work, all in, all in
All in a day's work, all in all

I would rather the firestorms of atmospheres
Than this cruel descent from a thousand years of dream
Into the starkness of this capsule,
That two of our crew still lie suspended,
Cool in their tombs of sleep
The nagging choirs of memory,
The tubes and wires worming from their flesh to machinery
I would have to cut
Such midwifery is but one function
Of the leader here
He's floating in a sac of fluid dark, a clear
Century of space away from earth
One man stares from the trauma of his birth

Attending to the hypno-tapes, assuring him,
This was reality, however grim
Oh our journey's end
The landing itself was nothing;
We touched upon a shelf of rock selected by the automind
And left the galaxy of dreams behind
And it's all a fable for fountains now
It's all a fable for fountains now
It's all a fable for fountains now
All your childhood dreams, all are a fable,
For fountains now,
For fountains now,
Now now,
Now now now,
Fountains, fountains,
All going up in fountains, fountains
All a fable for fountains now
Come on, ????????? ????????????

And just a minute now
When you look into my eyes,
You're looking at your own reflection
And all you see is your disguise
You wear for your own protection
So don't go telling me that you know just when to stop,
When to stop
You know you go over the top
Over the top
It's over the top
Over the top
Hey he's going, over the top
Over the top, oh
Over the top, alright here it goes

In 1916,
They dug the trenches
We don't need them;
We have our own defences
We don't need no officers to blow no whistle and scream
"Come on you guys wake up out of your dream
And follow me
Cos I'm going,
Over the top
Over the top
Follow me over the top
Here goes now,
Your country needs you"
(Hey Kitchener, don't you know that moustaches went out with the Beatles?)
Give me white feather!
Give me white feather!
Give me white feather!
Hung upon the wire
Give me white feather!
Give me white feather!
Give me white feather!
Hung upon the wire
Hung upon the wire
Strung on barbed wire
Huh, strung on barbed wire

Goodbye genocide