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Sting

The Night the Pugilist Learned How to Dance – Sting

In the streets around here there was nobody tougher than me,
I was quick with me fists and fast with me footwork as you can plainly see,
But while fighting was useful for getting your way,
Among the toughs of the town where you could hold sway,
There had to be something that was better than this,
I was fifteen years old and I’d never been kissed.

Well of course she’d ignore me, her friends would all sneer,
At me bloody nose dripping and me cauliflower ear,
For it’s hard to convince in a romantic pose,
With a lovely black eye and a broken nose,
Where a girl is attracted to skills more refined,
Than the pugilist’s art, and so I inclined,
To take meself serious as a modern romancer,
And I secretly learnt all the moves of a dancer.

Ye swing to the left, ye swing to the right,
Keep your eyes on your partner, more or less like a fight,
Ye just follow the rhythm, and ye keep to the beat,
The important thing’s never to look at your feet,
Then a miracle happens, your mind’s in a trance,
Though the strategy’s subtle, retreat and advance,
It’s all about attitude, all in your stance,
Attention to detail, leaving nothing to chance,
Which explains how the pugilist finally learned how to dance.

Well, I’d waltz with a broomstick and if I was caught,
I’d pretend I was sweeping or practicing sport,
But I really had eyes for your mother ye see,
Wanting her to acknowledge this new version of me,
But now everyone’s watching, expecting I’ll fail,
But there’s fire in me belly, there’s wind in me sails,
I knew it was risky and I was taking a chance,
I couldn’t retreat now, I had to advance.

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So I swing to the left, I swing to the right,
Keep me eyes on me partner, like I would in a fight,
I just keep to the rhythm and follow the beat,
The important thing’s never to look at yr feet,
But a miracle’s happened, and your mind’s in a trance,
They’re all laughing and cheering and looking askance,
On the night that the pugilist finally learned how to dance.

It’s a three-minute round and you’re back in yr corner,
You’re licking yr wounds just like little Jack Horner,
Don’t let your guard down try a jab with your right,
Or you’re losing on points by the end of the night,
Then a miracle happens, and everyone’s screaming,
You’re pinching yourself just in case you’re still dreaming,
You’ve taken the initiative, you’ve taken your chance,
It’s the night when this pugilist finally learned how to dance.

In a bout where the strategist’s bridges were burned,
Where it seemed that his fortune had suddenly turned,
‘Twas the night that this scrapper was suddenly dapper,
And this poor fellow’s heart was still going like the clappers,
The night that the pugilist finally learned how to dance.

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Sting

Another Day – Sting

Every day that goes by
A new hungry baby starts to cry
Born astride a painful grave
Drowned in hunger’s tidal wave
Pick a child that you can save
It’d be the only one

If Africa escapes starvation
Not only food but education
The desert grows with every minute
Trapping everybody in it
All the children look the same
They wonder why they came
But it’s hard to tell the poison from the cure
It’s harder still to know the reason why, why, why
The only thing I really know for sure
Is that another day, another day’s gone by

Every day that goes by
A brand new missile points towards the sky
We’re survivors of a game of chance
Beneath an arms race avalanche
If you survive this winter’s cold
You’d be the only one

If we escape annihilation
Not only hope but education
The world is ruled by Bellophiles
Adding to their weapon piles
Imagine what your taxes buy
We hardly ever try
But it’s hard to tell the poison from the cure
It’s harder still to know the reason why, why, why
The only thing I really know for sure
Is that another day, another day’s gone by, bye,bye

That this too solid flesh
Would melt and resolve into a dew
Suffocating lassitude
Drowning in my platitude
Trapped by insecurities
I’m not the only one
If I survive this dislocation
Have to use my education

Chief of inactivity
Wasted creativity
Distances our revolution
Silence is consent
But it’s hard to tell the poison from the cure
It’s harder still to know the reason why, why, why
The only thing I really know for sure
Is that another day, another day’s gone by

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Sting

Love Is the Seventh Wave – Sting

In the empire of the senses
You’re the queen of all you survey
All the cities all the nations
Everything that falls your way
There is a deeper wave than this
That you don’t understand
There is a deeper wave than this
Tugging at your hand

Every ripple on the ocean
Every leaf on every tree
Every sand dune in the desert
Every power we never see
There is a deeper wave than this
Swelling in the world
There is a deeper wave than this
Listen to me girl

Feel it rising in the cities
Feel it sweeping over land
Over borders, over frontiers
Nothing will its power withstand
There is no deeper wave than this
Rising in the world
There is no deeper wave than this
Listen to me girl

All the bloodshed, all the anger
All the weapons, all the greed
All the armies, all the missiles
All the symbols of our fear
There is a deeper wave than this
Rising in the world
There is a deeper wave than this
Listen to me girl

At the still point of destruction
At the centre of the fury
All the angels, all the devils
All around us can’t you see
There is a deeper wave than this
Rising in the land
There is a deeper wave than this
Nothing will withstand

I say love is the seventh wave

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Sting

Clear or Cloudy – Sting

Cleare or cloudie sweet as April showring,
Smooth or frowning so is hir face to mee,
Pleasd or smiling like milde May all flowring,
When skies blew silke and medowes carpets bee,
Hir speeches notes of that night bird that singeth,
Who thought all sweet yet jarring notes outringeth.

Hir grace like June, when earth and trees bee trimde,
In best attire of compleat beauties height,
Hir love againe like sommers daies bee dimde,
With little cloudes of doubtfull constant faith,
Hir trust hir doubt, like raine and heat in Skies,
Gently thundring, she lightning to mine eies.

Sweet sommer spring that breatheth life and growing,
In weedes as into herbs and flowers,
And sees of service divers sorts in sowing,
Some haply seeming and some being yours,
Raine on your herbs and flowers that truly serve,
And let your weeds lack dew and duly starve.

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