Marionettes [Roy Hill, 1978]
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Roy Hill Band- lyrics
Marionettes [Roy Hill, 1978]
High hopes are rising in young hearts today
as pen approaches dotted line...
Flashbulbs blow, wide smiles are fixed
and the executives sign
A deal is made with Deadweight Records and Tapes
knowing groom and blushing bride
Now all that talk of instant fame
can just be pushed to one side
In dreams of house full signs and neon lights
they just want to play for you and me
They're going to call themselves the marionettes
and that's just what they'll be
So here we are inside the home of the hits
in the land of promises and lies
Just waiting for those golden records
to materialise
Today they're everybody's brightest hopes
groomed for greatness picked to thrill
tomorrow they'll just be the reason
for a restaurant bill
Showbiz smiles have all been packed away
the men who care have disappeared
leaving only paper cups and empty words
to be cleared
George's Bar [Roy Hill, 1978]
Oh they're dancing on the tables and they're dancing underneath
they've got tables on their heads, they've got chairs between their teeth
ten waiters strut their love dance for a single madamoiselle
but she's already making it with a chef from some hotel
and while shirtless English tourists let their inhibitions fall
two military policemen beat their guns against the wall
Drinking at George's Bar, doesn't matter who you are
drinking that cheap white wine, second bottle tastes just fine
You can dance on your seat, you can dance in the street
Doesn't matter who you are, drinking at George's Bar
Well it's Sunday morning two am, taverna steaming hot
and a prehistoric jukebox blasts out everything it's got
Jack shakes hands with everyone who passes through the door
While little Jimmy from the beach hut lies exhausted on the floor
Old men sit outside recounting stories of the sea
but you know they'd be here dancing if they had the energy
Oh they're dancing on the tables and they're dancing underneath
they've got tables on their heads, they've got chairs between their teeth
some vagabond from Boston picks up all the latest news
from a Washington attorney on a first class world cruise
Those shirtless English tourists are singing Auld Lang Syne
and the military policemen know every single line
I Like, I Like, I Like [Roy Hill, 1978]
I like to play on my red guitar
I love the taste of caviar
But I like to go driving in my car
I like to take but I never steal
my reality is quite unreal
But I like the click of 6" heels
I don't like paintings, but I know what I like
I don't like sculpture, but I know what I like
Give me the feeling of a ten-pin strike
I like, I like, I like, I like, I like
I love diamonds, I simply adore pearls
I love long blond platinum curls
But mostly I like is leather-clad girls
I hate rock music, it's just too much noise
I go for the comfort of mechanical toys
But I like a lady with grace and poise
I don't like paintings, but I know what I like
I don't like sculpture, but I know what I like
Give me the feeling of a ten-pin strike
I like, I like, I like, I like, I like
I need my freedom, so give me some head
I like my cheeks all rosy and red
And I lie upside down in bed
I don't like paintings, but I know what I like
I don't like sculpture, but I know what I like
Give me the feeling of a ten-pin strike
I like, I like, I like, I like, I like
Give me the feeling of a ten-pin strike
I like, I like, I like, I like, I like
Mr Templar [Roy Hill/Chas Cronk, 1987]
You must have heard about the Saint
He's in my study, and he's a foolish man
This time it's gone too far
My old buddy, if he thinks he can outsmart me
He's so dim, this time I've outsmarted him
Are you looking for something Mr Templar?
My revolver is trained on you
it's an admirable view and there's nothing you can do
He's going through my secret files
and he's certain, he's solved this crime
but he doesn't know I'm here (ha, ha, ha)
behind the curtain, biding my time
He wants me, locked away
but I'm getting ready to say...
Are you looking for something Mr Templar?
the Contessa will see you now, take a final bow
Are you looking for something Mr Templar?
My revolver is trained on you
it's an admirable view and there's nothing you can do
Whoa, oh, oh, oh...(repeat to fade)
Lyrics © Roy Hill
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