Sacred Heart (Torture Garden)

Some day Chris will quit his desk job Leave the rat race far behind Until then he'll scrape existence In this prison we've designed As the voice whispers in his ear On a sphere of sleeping beauty Trapped beneath still icy wastes Sacred hearts don't make a sound Smile is frozen onto face Cold routines of sterile duty Blight the lives of living death Some day Jo will flee the city Find life in the countryside Until then she'll choke on fumes And the bitterness inside As the voice whispers in her ear On a sphere of sleeping beauty Trapped beneath still icy wastes Sacred hearts don't make a sound Smile is frozen onto face Cold routines of sterile duty Blight the lives of living death Some day Paul will call the girl Who could help him with his mind Until then he'll prowl dark entries Paying forty pounds a time As the voice whispers in his ear On a sphere of sleeping beauty Trapped beneath still icy wastes Sacred hearts don't make a sound Smile is frozen onto face Cold routines of sterile duty Blight the lives of living death We put on blank facades Dressed in white at our own wake Regrets buzz like drunk corpse flies Then hatch out larvae in sad sighs I am so truly very sorry But she's gone to a better place There's no more tears for you my dear Pleasure forever in the sky