Grayson Industries - I'm taking control of your life

music audio cd - 10 tracks 1985



It's the death of Jazz, but Jazz doesn't know she's dying,

Oh no, she hasn't thought of that. She thinks that

Its just some other day.

A day with four walls, A garden path,

And annoyance from shit-heads she doesn't know too well\Who she doesn't want to know.

And she'll laugh a bit. But still miss out on happiness.

A day which will not be different

In any particular way,

From all those days before.

It gets you like that, she says,

This basic inability to isolate

From the common flow of meaning.


And Jazz dreams of a big land.

A green land. A land with possibilities.

A land where she's screwed no one

In any particular way.

Oh Oh Oh I want to get away.

Oh Oh Oh, I need to get away.

She'd like to meet a new man.

 A new man in this big land.

A man who is different,

In every single way.

And they will get to know each other,

Without having to listen to what the other says.

No, not a single word.

They won't have to talk.

For in language lies their fear.

They will know what the other thinks

Through speaking with their bodies.

Sharing clauses of skin.

Laughing with a shrug.

Jazz no longer wants thought.

Not now she's in search of some new sensation.

A sensation for her laughter. For Tears.

And language for her is dead.

Or it has started to smell strange.\

And it has lost its promise

Of a certain heaven.


A fast car. A new man.

And the endless definitions of touch

That she has never felt before.

And she will leave everything,

Everything that is everyday and ordinary

In the dust spun from their wheels.

And they will laugh, and they will wave,

At no one in particular.

And it goes

Oh Oh Oh Oh...

To Leave all these compromises

And these double sided meanings.

History is junk, And All the things

That I have done are junk.

All stranded in this language.

She says Strip me clean. Tickle me.

Clean out memory with wire wool.

make me laugh. Junk all this junk.

That is the junk of history.


Yes, It's the death of Jazz.

All tied down inside these meanings..

And she says that the only way is to forget

everything she knows.

All those who use power, they use the power of language.

And in the beginning, was the word.

And the word was at the beginning.

And it was a big word. It was a small word. A silly word.

It was a stinking word. a word with knobs on.

It was the word of a fat man with a turkey neck

All larded up with sweat. A foul word.

A Man's word.

The word of a drinker with glaucous eyes.

A whispered word.

A word that goosed me from behind.

That yelled. that drank,

That drank twenty pints of beer

And fell down flat on its face

on that fart-arse Saturday night.

The word of that fat man,

With the itchy cock.

The word that he uses

When I pass him by.

The word that left the stain

That washing cannot remove.

It goes: Oh Oh Oh Oh......

Take me to this big land,

God knows that I deserve it.

Hell you can't guess the shit

That comes my way

With man's prick language in my mouth


And I shall go to this great land,

The land with new horizons.

And we shall understand

Without having to listen to what the other says.

Oh no, not a single word.

And I shall look into his eyes.

And he will look into mine.

And we shall be happier,

happier that we have ever been before.

So happy that we cry.


And he shall hold me close.

Closer whilst we're laughing

And light our cigarettes.

And in the dust spun from our wheels

We shall leave everything,

Everything that is every day and ordinary.

And we shall wave at no one in particular.

Oh Oh Oh I want to get away.

Oh Oh Oh I need to get away.

I shall look into his eyes.

he will look into mine.

And we shall be happier that we have ever been before.

Lyrics and vocals: Richard Grayson
Music arrangement and production: David Barratt

© Richard Grayson/David Barratt 1985