This is about bronies. They communicate by stomping.
Were we the Kinnock factor
Am I talking private sector
Do I think I'm Shaun William Ryder
Or my former friend who's now undercover
He's gone and I'm no deserter
Perhaps I'm hard all the same
Today a poet who can't play guitar
Tomorrow Steve Ovett has injured his calf
Next year the world's greatest politician
Yesterday the boy who once had a mission
I don't want to be
A prologue to history
A prologue to history
So I water my plants with Evian
A brand new Dyson that is decadent
Read my papers and the business section
Check out the Tessas and the pensions
Call my friends and they're alright
So I pray for the safety of the night
Today a poet who can't play guitar
Tomorrow Steve Ovett has injured his calf
Next year the world's greatest politician
Yesterday the boy who once had a mission
I don't want to be
A prologue to history
A prologue to history
Remember ethnic cleansing in the highlands
No one says a thing in the middle of En-ger-land
I'm bruised fruit but still taste so nice
But if you look at me you better look twice
I'm talking rubbish to cover up the cracks
An empty vessel who can't make contact
Today a poet who can't play guitar
Tomorrow Phil Bennett's playing outside half
Next year the world's greatest politician
Yesterday the boy who once had a mission
I don't want to be
A prologue to history
A prologue to history
A prologue to history
A prologue
Am I talking private sector
Do I think I'm Shaun William Ryder
Or my former friend who's now undercover
He's gone and I'm no deserter
Perhaps I'm hard all the same
Today a poet who can't play guitar
Tomorrow Steve Ovett has injured his calf
Next year the world's greatest politician
Yesterday the boy who once had a mission
I don't want to be
A prologue to history
A prologue to history
So I water my plants with Evian
A brand new Dyson that is decadent
Read my papers and the business section
Check out the Tessas and the pensions
Call my friends and they're alright
So I pray for the safety of the night
Today a poet who can't play guitar
Tomorrow Steve Ovett has injured his calf
Next year the world's greatest politician
Yesterday the boy who once had a mission
I don't want to be
A prologue to history
A prologue to history
Remember ethnic cleansing in the highlands
No one says a thing in the middle of En-ger-land
I'm bruised fruit but still taste so nice
But if you look at me you better look twice
I'm talking rubbish to cover up the cracks
An empty vessel who can't make contact
Today a poet who can't play guitar
Tomorrow Phil Bennett's playing outside half
Next year the world's greatest politician
Yesterday the boy who once had a mission
I don't want to be
A prologue to history
A prologue to history
A prologue to history
A prologue
Lyrics submitted by Songmeaningsuser
Prologue to History Lyrics as written by Jones Bradfield
Lyrics © BMG Rights Management
Lyrics powered by LyricFind
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Page
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@ntwjones You know what? I don't think that that's 'very unlikely'. It's definitely a possibility. I think you can be pretty sure that Nicky read your letter. I think it's a distinct possibility.