Текст песни Memphis Psychosis (Mick Farren/Jack Lancaster) с переводом

I was running fast on I 61

Maybe three hours outside of Memphis

Making good time and driving smooth

On course for the Elvis Presley

Souvenir shopping mall and pharmacy

It was only a '51 Hudson

But it was running like a dream

And about the only thing

That stopped it being a perfect day

Was that I couldn’t get anything

On the radio

But Bobby Rydell, Howard Stern

Or Oral Roberts

Who was threatening to strike me dead

If I didn’t send him money

All in all though

I was feeling pretty good

Which made it come as a major surprise that I

Never made it to Memphis

It was probably my own fault

I should never have taken those pills

That were offered me in the men’s room

By a mexican in a lime green matador suit

That not even prince would have had the gall to wear

In was in this Denny’s

Somewhere along the way

I’d only pulled in for a cup of coffee

A pack of cigarettes

And some Jim Thompson fantasy about the waitress

Never stop at a place that only serves

Non alcoholic beer

Mousy Den

Mousy Den, Jack

The mexican wanted five bucks a pop for these suck-ers

Maybe I shouldn’t have taken ten

But i was in the mood for conspicuous consumption

and the ghost of Elvis was at my shoulder

I should have suspected that something was up

And vanished

Carlos Castenada comes in all shapes and sizes

Even then, though, there in the men’s room

I never thought that I wouldn’t make it to Memphis

I guess it all really started

With the flickerings at the corners of my eyes

That I dismissed at the time

As being a result of having

Not slept for forty eight hours straight

The bats came later

At first they were content

To loiter in the periphery of my vision

But, after a while,

They got real, real bold

And started flying alongside the car

In formation

Like they were on their way to bomb Dresden

It got really bad

When I was going down

This slight incline

There wasn’t another car in sight

And then I ran into this waist deep

Hammer horror,

Edgar Allen Poe mist

And began to realize that

I wasn’t going to make it to Memphis

Now after I hit the mist

All I could get on the radio

And now the signs are written in Assyrian

And, at any moment. Rod Serling

Is going to come marching through the windshield

And offer me for your consideration

Oh God! Oh Graceland!

Am I in a lot of trouble

I have lost all sense of motion

And my hands are turning blue

And there’s definitely

Something wrong with space and time

And the Hudson has started to glow

Oh shit… here comes the monolith

What did I do

To finish up here

As some post Einstein zombie flying dutchman

In wormhole that I can’t get out of

Because, in here, there’s no such concept as out

Life’s a bitch and then you’re infinite

And I never made it to Memphis

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