They say that there's a broken light for every heart on Broadway
They say that life's a game and then they take the board away
They give you masks and costumes
and an outline of the story...
Then leave you all to improvise their vicious cabaret
In no longer pretty cities there are fingers in the kitties
there are warrants, forms, and chitties
and a jackboot on the stair...
There's sex and death and human grime
in monochrome for one thin dime,
and at least the trains all run on time
but they don't go anywhere.
Facing their responsibilities either on their backs
or on their knees
there are ladies who just simply freeze and dare not turn away
And the widows who refuse to cry will be dressed in garter and bow-tie
and be taught to kick their legs up high in this vicious cabaret.
At last the 1998 show! The ballet on the burning stage
! The documentary seen upon the fractured screen...
The dreadful poem scrawled
upon the crumpled page!
There's a policeman with an honest soul
that has seen whose head is on the pole
and he grunts and fills his briar bowl
with a feeling of unease.
Then he briskly frisks the torn remains
for a finger print of crimson stains
and endeavors to ignore the chains that he walks in to his knees.
While his master in the dark nearby inspects the hands with brutal eye
that have never brushed a lover's thigh but have squeezed a nation's throat
And he hungers in his secret dreams for the harsh embrace of cruel machines
But his lover is not what she seems and she will not leave a note
At last, the 1998 show! The situation tragedy
! Grand opera slick with soap! Cliff-hangers with no hope
The water-colour in the flooded gallery.
There's a girl who'll push but not shove and is desperate for her father's love.
She believes the hand beneath the glove maybe one she needs to hold
Though she doubts her hosts moralities
she decides she is more at ease
In the Land Of Doing-As-You-Please
than outside in the cold.
But the backdrop's peel and the sets give way and the cast get eaten by the play
There's a murderer at the matinee, there are dead men
in the aisles.
And the patrons and actors too are uncertain if the show is through
And with side-long looks
await their cue...
...but the frozen mask just smiles
At last! The 1998 Show! The torch-song no one ever sings! The curfew chorus line! The comedy divine
The bulging eyes of puppets, strangled by their strings!
There's thrills and chills and girls galore, sing-songs and surprises!
There's something hear for everyone, reserve your seat today
There's mischief and malarkies...
but no queers
Within this bastard's carnival-
This Vicious Cabaret
This was written by Alan Moore, part of 'V for Vendetta' a graphic novel of his. Also, it appears to be recorded by David J of Bauhaus fame on his 'On The Glass: The Singles' Album.