Radio K.A.O.S.
songteksten

Jim: This is K.A.O.S. You and I are listening to KAOS in Los Angeles. Let's

go to the telephones now and take a request.

Billy: Hello, I'm Billy.

Jim: Yes?

Billy: I hear radio waves in my head.

Jim: You hear radio waves in your head? Ah! Is there a request that you have

tonight for KAOS?

Radio Waves

Radio waves. Radio waves.

He hears radio waves. Radio waves.

The atmosphere is thin and cold

The yellow sun is getting old

The ozone overflows with radio waves

AM, FM, weather and news

Our leaders had a frank exchange of views

Are you confused, radio waves.

Radio waves, radio waves

AM radio waves, FM radio waves

Radio waves, mind-numbing radio waves

Fish-stunning radio waves

Radio waves.

Magic Billy in his wheel chair

Is picking up all this stuff in the air

Billy is face to face with outer space

Messages from distant stars

The local police calling all cars, radio waves

Hear them radio waves, radio waves

Jesus saves radio, radio waves

Radio waves, AM radio waves, FM radio waves

All them radio waves

Radio waves, radio waves, he hears radio waves

Radio waves, radio waves, hopeful radio waves, dopeful radio waves

Radio waves, Russian radio waves, Prussian radio waves

Eastern radio waves, Western radio waves

Testing radio waves, one two. One two.

Radio waves. Getting through to you

More code radio waves, Tobacco road radio waves

South to Paloma radio waves, Oklahoma City radio waves

Sitting pretty radio waves, nitty-gritty radio waves

Radio waves

Jim: Alright, that's a song called Radio Waves. You are listening to KAOS in

Los Angeles and we've got Billy on the line.

Billy: I'm from the valleys.

Jim: You're from the valley?

Billy: No, Jim you schmuck, the Valleys; male voice choirs, Wales.

Jim: Ah, you're from Wales! Now is this sperm or blue-tip?

Billy: Ha, ha, ha, ha. Very funny Jim.

Jim: Sorry.

Billy: Me and Benny went out.

Jim: Who's Benny?

Who Needs Information

Me and Benny went out last night

Looking for fun

Supping ale in the moonlight

Waiting for the dawn to come

Benny pointed at a HiFi shop

He said hey man look at all the stuff they've got

How'd you make a have out of a have not

Hmmmm.

Who needs information

When you're working underground

Just give me confirmation

We could win a million pounds

Benny climbed up on a footbridge

And he teetered on the parapet

He said can you see the whites of their headlights

Are they coming yet

Who needs information

This high off the ground

Just give me confirmation

We could win a million pounds

Who needs information

When you're living in constant fear

Just give me confirmation

There's some way out of here

Some way out of here

Benny hefted a breeze block

And tried to let go

Got hung up on a tear drop

So me and Benny went home

Who needs information

When you're living in constant fear

Just give me confirmation

There's some way out of here

Some way out of here

Who needs information yeah

When you're living on borrowed time

Just give me confirmation

There will be a winner this time

Who needs information when you're working underground

Just give me confirmation

We could win a million pounds

Who needs, who needs, who needs information

This high off the ground

Just give me confirmation

We could win a million pounds - yeah

Jim: Um.

Jim lights a cigarette.

Jim: So your brother's in jail?

Me or Him

You wake up in the morning, get something for the pot

Wonder why the sun makes the rocks feel hot

Draw on the walls, eat, get laid

Back in the good old days

Then some damn fool invents the wheel

Listen to the whitewalls squeal

You spend all day looking for a parking spot

Nothing for the heart, nothing for the pot

Benny turned the dial on his Short Wave radio

Oh how he wanted to talk to the people,

he wanted his own show

Tune in Moscow. Tune in New York

Listen tot the Welsh kid talk

Communicating like in the good old days

Forgive me father for I have sinned

It was either me or him

And a voice said Benny

You fucked the whole thing up

Benny your time is up

Your time is up

Benny turned the dial on his Short Wave radio

He wanted to talk to the people

He wanted his own show

Tune in Moscow. Tune in New York

Listen to the Welsh kid talk communicating

Like in the good old days

Forgive me Father

Welsh Policeman: Mobile One Two to Central.

For I have sinned

Welsh Policeman: We have a multiple on the A465

between Cwmbran and Cylgoch.

Father it was either me or him.

Father can we turn back the clock?

Welsh Policeman: Ambulance, over.

I never meant to drop the concrete block.

Welsh Policeman: Roger central, over and out.

Benny turned the dial on his Short Wave radio

He wanted to talk to the people

He wanted his own show

Tune in Moscow. Tune in New York

Listen to the Welsh kid talk

Just like in the good old days

The good old days

Radio announcer: Do you really think Iranian terrorists would have taken

Americans hostage if Ronald Reagan were president?

Do you really think the Russians would have invaded Afghanistan if Ronald

Reagan were president?

Do you really think third-rate military dictators would laugh at America and

burn our flag in contempt if Ronald Reagan were president?

Concerned Citizen: Well, it might work!

Hostage: We as a group do most importantly want to beseech President Reagan

and our fellow Americans to refrain from any form of military or violent means as

an attempt, no matter how noble or heroic, to secure our freedom.

Concerned Citizen: Sure! Only it's going to be mighty dangerous for you, Cassidy

Hoppy's faithful sidekick: guess you don't know Hopalong Cassidy, Mister.

Adventure's his bread, excitement's his butter and danger, why to him that's

like strawberry jam to top it off.

Jim: This is some live rock and roll at KAOS, where rock and roll comes out of

chaos and a song called "The Powers that Be"...

The Powers That Be

The powers that be

They like a tough game

No rules

Some you win, some you lose

Competition's good for you

They're dying to be free

They're the powers that be

They like a bomb proof cadillac

Air conditioned, gold taps,

Back seat gun rack, platinum hub caps

They pick horses for courses

They're the market forces

Nice car Jack

They like order, make-up, lime light power

Game shows, rodeos, star wars, TV

They're the powers that be

If you see them come,

You better run - run

You better run on home

Sisters of mercy better join your brothers

Put a stop to the soap opera right now

They say the toothless get ruthless

You better run on home

You better run - run

You better run on home

The powers that be

They like treats, tricks, carrots and sticks

They like fear and loathing, they like sheep's clothing

And blacked-out vans

Blacked-out vans, contingency plans

They like death or glory, they love a good story

They love a good story

Sisters of mercy better join with your brothers

Put a stop to the soap opera state

They say the toothless get ruthless

Run home before its too late

You better run - run

You better run on home

Billy: Goodnight, Jim.

Jim: Goodnight, Billy.

Uncle David's Great Dane: Woof, woof, woof!

The canyon - daytime. Billy plays with Great Uncle David's Great Dane.

Paraquat Kelly: Bull heads, three red snapper, one pink snapper and your

Pacific coastal trench hosemonster fish.

Cynthia Fox: Ohhh! At Sky David's juke joint of joy reports, forty under the

console giggle stick ling cod, twenty-three purple perches four

sledgehammerhead sharks, and what a surprise, eightyfour crabs, and no red

snappers.

Paraquat Kelly: Hey, and that'll do for the triumphant return of the fish

report with a beat.

Jim: We think of it as mainstreet, but to the rest of the country it's Sunset

Strip. You're listening to KAOS in Los Angeles.

Sunset Strip

I like staying with my Uncle Dave

And I like playing with his great dane

But I don't fit

I feel alien and strange Kinda outa range

I like riding in my Uncle's car

Down to the beach where the pretty girls all parade

And movie stars and paparazzi play

The Charles Atlas kicking sand in the face game

And I sit in the canyon with my back to the sea

There's a blood red dragon on a field of green

Calling me back

Back to the Black Hills again

Ooh, ooh, Billy come home

Billy is searching for his native land

Flicking through the stations with the dial in his head

Picking up -------------- and

A male voice choir on the short wave band

Billy taps out Jim's number on the 'phone

Sits shaking as he waits for Jim's answering tone

Come on my friend, speak to me please

The land of my fathers is calling to me

And I sit in the canyon with my back to the sea

There's a blood red dragon on a field of green

Calling me back, back to the Black Hills again

Ooh, ooh, Billy come home

Come on home

He sits in the canyon with his back to the sea

Sees a blood red dragon on a field of green

He hears a male voice choir singing Billy come home

Billy, Billy, come home

Come on home

Californian Weirdo: I don't like fish.

Jim: You are listening to KAOS here in Los Angeles.

Californian Weirdo: I don't like fish.

Jim: Yes, we've established that. Ah! Do you have a request?

Californian Weirdo: Shell fish, guppy, salmon, shrimp and crab and lobster,

flounder.I hate fish, but I think most of all I hate fresh fish, like trout. I

hate fresh trout. My least-hated, favourite fish would be sole. That way you

don't have to see the eyes.

Sole has no eyes.

Jim: Oh no!

I'd like to be home with my monkey and my dog

Jim: Thankyou.

I'd like to be home with my monkey and my dog

I'd like to be home with my monkey and my dog

I'd like to be home with my monkey ...

Jim: They don't care. Shut up. Play the record.

Home

Jim: Oh, God!

Californian Weirdo: Sole has no eyes.

Could be Jerusalem, or it could be Cairo

Could be Berlin, or it could be Prague

Could be Moscow, could be New York

Could be Llanelli, and it could be Warrington

Could be Warsaw, and it could be Moose Jaw

Could be Rome

Everybody got somewhere they call home

When they overrun the defences

A minor invasion put down to expenses

Will you go down to the airport lounge

Will you accept your second class status

A nation of waitresses and waiters

Will you mix their martinis

Will you stand still for it

Or will you take to the hills

It could be clay and it could be sand

Could be desert

Could be a tract of arable land

Could be a house, could be a corner shop

Could be a cabin by a bend in the river

Could be something your old man handed down

Could be something you built on your own

Everybody got something he calls home

When the cowboys and Arabs draw down

On each other at noon

In the cool dusty air of the city boardroom

Will you stand by a passive spectator

Of the market dictators

Will you discreetly withdraw

With your ear pressed to the boardroom door

Will you hear when the lion within you roars

Will you take to the hills

Will you stand, will you stand for it

Will you hear, ohhhh! ohhh! when the lion within

you roars

Could be your father and it could be your mother

Could be your sister, could be your brother

Could be a foreigner, could be a Turk

Could be a cyclist out looking for work. Norman

Could be a king, could be the Aga khan

Could be a Vietnam vet with no arms and no legs

Could be a saint, could be a sinner

Could be a loser or it could be a winner

Could be a banker, could be a baker

Could be a Laker, could be Kareem Abdul Jabar

Could be a male voice choir

Could be a lover, could be a fighter

Could be a super heavyweight, or it could be

something lighter

Could be a cripple, could be a freak

Could be a wop, gook, geek

Could be a cop, could be a thief

Could be a family of ten living in one room on relief

Could be our leaders in their concrete tombs

With their tinned food and their silver spoons

Could be the pilot with God on his side

Could be the kid in the middle of the bomb sight

Could be a fanatic, could be a terrorist

Could be a dentist, could be a psychiatrist

Could be humble, could be proud

Could be a face in the crowd

Could be the soldier in the white cravat

Who turns the key in spite of the fact

That this is the end of the cat and mouse

Who dwelt in the house

Where the laughter rang and the tears were spilt

The house that Jack built

Where the laughter rang and the tears were spilt

The house that Jack built

Bang, bang, shoot, shoot

White gloved thumb, Lord thy will be done

He was always a good boy his mother said

He'll do his duty when he's grown, yeah

Everybody's got someone they call home

Four Minutes

Billy: Four minutes and counting.

Jim: O.K.

Billy: They pressed the button, Jim.

Jim: They pressed the button Billy, what button?

Billy: The big red one.

Jim: You mean THE button?

Billy: Goodbye, Jim.

Jim: Goodbye! Oh yes. This ain't au revoir,

it's goodbye! Ha! Ha!

Jim: This is KAOS. It's a beautiful, balmy, Southern California summer day.

It's 80 degrees ... I said balmy ... I could say bomby ... Ha! Ha! ...O.K.

I'm Jim and this is Radio KAOS and with only four minutes left to us, let's use

this as wisely as possible.

Molly: Everybody got someone they call home.

Jim: Out at Dodger Stadium.

It's the bottom of the seventh, the Dodgers are leading

Three to nothing over the Giants, and for those of you who are looking to go

surfing tomorrow, too bad.

'Phone rings.

Jim: I'm kinda lost in here to tell you the truth ...

O.K. good. Ladies and gentlemen, if the reports that we are getting are

correct, this could be it. Billy, if you're listening to me, please call now.

After a near miss on the plane

You swear you'll never fly again

After the first kiss when you make up

You swear you'll never break up again

And when you've just run a red light

Sit shaking under the street light

You swear to yourself you'll never drink and drive again

Sometimes I feel like going home

You swear you'll never let things go by again.

Sometimes I miss the rain and snow

And you'll never toe the party line again

And when the east wind blows

Sometimes I feel like going home

Jim: Billy, if you are listening, please call.

Californian Weirdo: Sole has no eyes.

Molly: Goodbye little spy in the sky.

They say that cameras don't lie.

Am I happy, am I sad, am I good, am I bad?

Jim: Billy, if you're listening, please call.

Californian Weirdo: Sole has no eyes, sole has no eyes

Billy: Ten, nine, eight, seven

Margaret Thatcher: Our own independent nuclear deterrent has helped to keep the

peace.

Billy: Six, five four, three,

Ordinary Person: ...you've go a job...

Billy: Two, one,

Margaret Thatcher: For nearly forty years

Jim: Goodbye Billy.

The Tide is Turning (After Live Aid)

I used to think the world was flat

Rarely threw my hat into the crowd

I felt I had used up my quota of yearning

Used to look in on the children at night

In the glow of their Donald Duck light

And frighten myself with the thought of my little ones burning

But oh, oh, oh, the tide is turning

The tide is turning

Satellite buzzing through the endless night

Exclusive to moonshots and world title fights

Jesus Christ imagine what it must be earning

Who is the strongest, who is the best

Who holds the aces, the East or the West

This is the crap our children are learning

But oh, oh, oh, the tide is turning

The tide is turning

Oh, oh, oh, the tide is turning

Now the satellite's confused

'Cos on Saturday night

The airwaves were full of compassion and light

And his silicon heart warmed

To the sight of a billion candles burning

Oo, oo, oo, the tide is turning

Oo, oo, oo, the tide is turning

The tide is turning Billy

I'm not saying that the battle is won

But on Saturday night all those kids in the sun

Wrested technology's sword from the hand of the

War Lords

Oh, oh, oh, the tide is turning

The tide is turning Sylvester

The tide is turning.