| Carousel |
Fireworks At Midnight
I started the year in a heated marquee
Working time and a half to an affluent crowd
And it's drinks from the left and it's food from the right
Where the platters that matter run clockwise all night
And I'll try and remember your order
If you try and remember your wife
And I'll try to forget
I'm working time and a half at the start of the year
Try working time and a half when you don't have a choice
The fireworks start so it's midnight I guess
And the couples embrace like they've only just met
And I long for the frisson of passion they share
Not just sweethearts hand-holding, but total immersion
I'm trying to capture the feeling
To replay it at will, but for now I'm stuck waiting here
For the first kiss of the start of the year
I'm stuck waiting for the first kiss of the start of the year
Promises, Promises
The midsummer heat gets the newspapers talking, as diligent crowds fill the roads
And as the people decamp to the beaches then I'll share the city with you
If only I could share the city just with you
A handwritten note is a scant consolation, but I'll take whatever love's left
With pen strokes that slant from the left to the right like a drunk cyclist
Meandering home on a cold Christmas Eve
And I know, I know
This faded note that I hold in my hand
An invitation to run
It's a chain reaction to run
To the tempting lines in disposable ink
A dozen casual promises, I'm falling back in
I'm always the first to get burnt by the summer or blinded by someone I trust
I pray on my knees for the sweetest release of the cold autumn months
If only I could share those autumn months with you
I never could count the cards but I sure learned to read your brown eyes
You never learned Russian Whist but you sure learned to spin out a yarn
As far and as wide as the national grid
And promises, promises fall from your lips overwhelmingly
Promises, promises fall from the page like a mountain spring
Distilled and repackaged as something unique
And I know, I know
This single page that I hold in my hand
An invitation to run
It's a chain reaction to run
To the tempting lines in disposable ink
A dozen casual promises, I'm falling in
So, keep the unblinking eyes, it's okay, I buy it
Keep up the paperwork, I just want to read it
Keep up the party line, I'll might not believe it
But just want to hear it, I just want hear it out loud
And I know, I know
This steady hand that I hold in my hand
An invitation to run
It's a chain reaction to run
To the tempting lines in throwaway speech
A dozen casual promises
Well, back in the day when your letters arrived I'd be lovesick I guess
The Ts, Ls and Js would all slant the same way but now something has changed
The handwriting tells always give us away
The Sky At Night
A simple telescope
An impulse buy from the market town
Where cheap scented candles were three for a pound
Where almost antiques are perused and discarded right under the shopkeepers' eyes
I lost my girl to an eyepiece and the sky
The bedroom slipping into disrepair
The cellophane peels from a paperback book
The wallpaper tears where the pictures once stood
Street lights and dancing say much more to me than the cold sky at night
With your telescope gathering light
I'm left to my thoughts and I'm left to my records
And I'll watch the back of your neck as you sit on your knees gazing up at the sky
With your telescope gathering light
You're lost to the world and you're closing an eye
And I'm left all alone in the deafening quiet
Looking for something to fill all those nights when you're lost gathering light
We'd kiss like teenagers
Who'd run away at seventeen
Romantically plan for a summer abroad
And make it as far as the next market town before midnight
And heading back home
Then I lost my girl to a small refracting lens
An eyepiece and a cylinder of light
The holiday sunglasses stay on the shelf
Gathering dust by the traveller's globe
Street lights and dancing say much more to me than the cold sky at night
With your telescope gathering light
I'll gather my thoughts and I'll long for the courage
To pull down the shutters if I could discover some ways to distract
From the telescope gathering light
But you're lost to the world and you're closing an eye
And I'm left all alone in the deafening quiet
Looking for something to fill all those nights when you're lost gathering light
So open up, let's run through the city tonight
At least until the clouds dissipate
Sound Of The Carnival
Do you remember when the carnival came by?
It was late September '99
You were staying on my sofa, packing bags and throwing darts at maps at random
I was in love with the dancing in the streets
But you won't stay still for anything
As the years went by you never settled down, did you?
You're a postcode lottery
And I'm the girl they built the town around
And suddenly, just when I least expect it, you'll be around
Well are your Silk Cut running out?
Or are you holding out for something else?
As the city descends on us
With the weight of a thousand cartoon anvils falling endlessly down
You'll be the first to leave town
You're the sound of the carnival
You're the sound of a psychedelic orchestra that took to the streets
Swept all the girls off their feet
Am I just some repetitive beats?
Left feeling incomplete
I bought a GPS just to follow you around, sunshine
You're a postcode lottery
Dressed in 1980s hand-me-downs
On summer days, when you rush past my window I feel alive
When my head's still spinning round
I can't help keeping two feet on the ground
As the city will carry us
With the speed of a thousand rollercoasters swiftly spiralling round
You'll be the blur at the front
You're the sound of the carnival
You're the sight of a thousand modern dancers who abandoned the script
Swept all the boys off their feet
Am I just some repetitive beats
To make you feel complete?
And when I tell you you're a lottery
I quite admire the whole philosophy
You're the chaos of the town
So now I'm throwing clothes in rucksacks and I'm aiming darts at atlases, with you by my side
The carnival passing me by for a while
And the city will lift us up
With the grace of a thousand northern landbirds heading south for the sun
Let yourself blink and we're gone
We're the sound of the carnival
We're the sight of a thousand summer festivals that took to the streets
Swept all the kids off their feet
Seeking something that's out of our reach
Where everything's complete
Sparklers
My summer began in September
I can pinpoint the day it arrived
When the apples turned easily loose in my hands or just fell to the ground
When the seasonal staff and the locals combine then the sparks start to fly
But the sparks never last
We worked morning shifts in the orchards
You bunked in the landowner's barn
And despite early starts we'd throw alfresco parties than ran through the night
And with reckless regard for the trees all around we'd share sparklers
And the lights burned your name
In the lids of my eyes
It burned under my skin
But we both knew the deal
That you'll follow the summer to wherever it lands
And just leave me behind
When the orchards run dry
Where the sparks never last
And for two months a year I'm in love with it all
But as quickly as summer arrives then it's all gone, sweeping everyone up
Almost everyone up
Us locals stay put while the seasonals move to another more seasonal town
And if I keep my head down well they might keep me on through the winter
As the students depart
To the next college term
As the winter draws in
Well, could we broker a deal?
And let's follow the summer to wherever it lands
Just don't leave me behind
In this seasonal decline
Where the sparks never last
Gaumont State Cinema
At the High Road end of Willesden Lane
I'm not the best with directions
I took your hand in my hand
And we'd hotfoot to the confectionary
When nine to five means eight to six
The State Cinema means everything
A thousand miles from the Kings Road crowds
The boutiques on Portobello Road
In the double daylight saving time
Amid wood-effect linoleum
I'd watch the white dot on the television
Slowly disappear
In the web of indoor washing lines
In love around a single coal fire
A thousand miles from the Kings Road crowds
The boutiques on Portobello Road
I'll capture the furtive looks we'd share
Scraping the frost from the living room wallpaper
So when nostalgic eyes romanticise, I can stick to my lines
I'll describe how the lights fell on your face
Write down the Woolworth's flavoured lipstick taste
So when nostalgic eyes romanticise, I can stick to my lines
I'll capture the way the frozen milk
Pushed up the silver tops from the bottle necks
So when nostalgic eyes romanticise, I can stick to my lines
I'll write down each stolen summer kiss
Describe all our falling outs and the making-ups
So when nostalgic eyes romanticise, I can stick to my lines
Harbour Lights
Seven Sisters, you showed me how to smile
Seven Sisters, gave me love and hurt in equal size
I'm afraid that I've strayed and there's no turning back
I long for autumn, just to hide within a coat
I long for winter, just to have the streets all to myself
A hidden retreat or a stolen weekend
I'll cling with weathered fingertips
Soft-focused melodies and
Swap decades of hectic streets for
A weekend's faded memories
Where west coast harbour lights keep on calling me back
The lifeboats bob on the turning tide
The carousel spins silently in black and white
And those east coast 45s in their polythene sleeves
The needle drops and I'm feeling seasick
Hypnotised by the hiss and clicks
And the tidal streams
I'm sleepwalking back to the sea
Well I know, the winter takes its toll on you
Those hectic scenes, those unforgiving streets
Drive-by soundbites, in fifteen words or less
Chequebook politics, always in lower case
Just dodge the bullets and try to think of somewhere else
Seven Sisters, I love you but that's it
Swing Out Sister, take me anywhere just play the hits
I'm turning imperfect cartwheels on cold cobbled streets
I'll cling with weathered fingertips
Soft-focused melodies and
Swap decades of hectic streets for
A weekend's faded memories
Where west coast harbour lights keep on calling me back
Where the lifeboats bob on the turning tide
The carousel spins silently in black and white
And those east coast 45s in their polythene sleeves
The needle drops and I'm feeling seasick
Hypnotised by the hiss and clicks
And the tidal streams
I'm sleepwalking back to the sea
Well I know, the winter takes its toll on you
Those hectic scenes, those unforgiving streets
And I know, the temptation just to trade it in
Those hectic scenes, for a weekend's faded memories
Where west coast harbour lights keep on calling me back
Where the lifeboats bob on the turning tide
The carousel spins silently in black and white
And those east coast 45s in their polythene sleeves
The needle drops and I'm feeling seasick
Hypnotised by the hiss and clicks
And the tidal streams
I'm sleepwalking back to the sea
The Flowers Are Still Standing
More canapés sir, a drink from the bar?
I'd suggest that a soft drink might be what's required?
As the extrovert stands, takes the tablecloth ends
And you'll know what comes next as he whips it away
And the flowers and vase are still standing
As the glasses and plates hit the floor
And I'm still waiting here
For the first kiss of the start of the year
I'm stuck waiting here
For the first kiss of the start of the year
The Beaujolais Lanes
Take me back to the ochre-coloured towns
When you were 20, I was 21
And we left the city to its own devices for a while
Just one last summer then we'll knuckle down
Hand in hand, we hugged for warmth on midnight ferries and
I skimmed the guidebook and you drank tax-free red wine
I picked up lines from dated phrasebooks and
You took a biro and sketched out maps of the Beaujolais lanes
Where the tailbacks run for miles
Another vineyard and another chance
To identify complexity, expressiveness and taste
From the Côte de Brouilly to the distant look on your face
And gradually our June vacation
Lost its sense of anticipation somehow
With every swirl and taste and savour
Well I could sense you drifting further away
And across the scattered towns
The connoisseurs and wind-swept tourists
Pursue a true perfection with a smile
As the tears run down the glass
The wine you drink straight from the vineyard
Will fade as winter months draw nearer
Replaced with every year
The wood-smoke has gone to our heads
Now you're heading back to the city and I am lost in the Beaujolais lanes
As the celebrations fade
I was 22 then, you seem years away
Just as anyone in marketing can speak a simple spiel
When something's new, it's got a raw appeal
Then with time, we start to see a clearer picture
Perceptions shift and attractions alter
And I can taste wine with objective rigour
I speak the language and everything's crystal clear
Across the scattered towns
The connoisseurs and wind-swept tourists
Pursue a true perfection with a smile
As the tears run down the glass
The wine you drink straight from the vineyard
Will fade as winter months draw nearer
Replaced with every year
The wood-smoke has gone to our heads
Now you're heading back to the city and I'll
Go aimlessly stumbling back
Back through the Beaujolais Lanes
Five Day Forecast
We step along a terrace where the incline leaves us out of breath and dizzied by the climb
The painted doors and sandstone grey and faded by the smoke and soot of industries gone by
The windows are frozen, the furniture is worn, threadbare
We'll learn to love it if we stay here
The key's a little rusty and the pictures need replacing but the views are out of sight
Look west and there's the harbour if you squint beyond the pylons and the supermarket signs
The streets are a mystery, the neighbourhood's my next best friend
We'll learn to love it if we stay here
Step into sunshine
Or crash against the turning tide?
The jury's out, in two minds
Just hoping for a five day forecast to describe
Are we catching a tailwind
Or overwhelmed or just capsized?
We'll brace ourselves, close our eyes
Just clinging to a sense of what our five day forecast might provide
The streets are a mystery, the neighbourhood's my next best friend
We'll learn to love it if we stay here
The windows are frozen, the furniture is worn, threadbare
We'll learn to love it if we stay here
I could learn to love the climb back home, at least it keeps me fit
I could learn to love the single glazing in such a quiet street
I could learn to love the curtain-twitching neighbours opposite
And hopefully I'll feel this way within the working week
Step into sunshine
Or crash against the turning tide?
The jury's out, in two minds
Just hoping for a five day forecast to describe
Are we catching a tailwind
Or overwhelmed or just capsized?
We'll brace ourselves, close our eyes
Just clinging to a sense of what our five day forecast might provide
The End Of The Pier
I'd brush down a charcoal grey suit
Fasten a skinny grey tie and I'd picture you fixing your hair up
Ironing neat sunray pleats in a circular skirt
I'd practice the steps in my hall
I'd try out my quickstep and side kicks round chairs by the kitchen room table
Until typically just as it started to click, along came the Twist
We'd meet at the end of the pier
Spin around the Edwardian ballroom and drink Vodka Collins from hipflasks
And stroll back to land with a Woodbine in hand
You'd laugh with the girls from the shop
We'd kiss on the decking and smile at the leather-clad teddy boy try-hards
Bet they wished they could dance the way that we danced round that old wooden hall, and who would have thought
That I'd be the one who sits at the end of the pier all alone watching the tide
That I'd be the one who stands at the faded pavilion doors
Watching the space where we'd dance to the bands on a Saturday night
The gatehouse got burned to the ground
The cafe became an arcade and our ballroom became a casino
The old helter-skelter unused and unloved
I can picture your dress spinning round
Sometimes I can still see our love in the candyfloss-sharing young couples that pass
But I bet they can't dance the way that we danced round that old wooden hall, and who would have thought
That I'd be the one who sits on the end of the pier all alone watching the tide
That I'd be the one practising side kicks and lifts round the hall in the same charcoal suit
Fire brigade staff, the next time it's burning and everyone's safe, please just stand aside
Or I'll be the one who still stands at the faded pavilion doors
Watching the space where we'd dance to the bands on a Saturday night
| Flight Paths |
You had me when I saw your shoes
Or trainers if truth be told
You had my heart the day I heard your footsteps near me
And every summer passed me by
The stairs to my apartment lacked excitement and style
Until I heard your footsteps with me
On the top deck of the 23
Through winter snow and autumn leaves
Our footsteps in sync
It's a beautiful thing, choreography
From the supermarket aisles to the dancefloors of provincial towns
I'd occupy my vacant hours just waiting for something
For every couple holding hands in the high street
You can bet your life
You'll only hear a single set of footsteps between them
On the platforms of the Central line
The beaches of a south coast town
Our footsteps in sync
It's a beautiful thing, choreography
Like the mischief hidden in your eyes
Or the retro clothes you always buy
I just hope I'll always hear your footsteps with me
Like the clutter in your kitchen
The same song you keep on whistling
I just hope I'll always hear your footsteps with me
On the top deck of the 23
Through winter snow and autumn leaves
Our footsteps in sync
It's a beautiful thing, choreography
Like the mischief hidden in your eyes
Or the retro clothes you always buy
I just hope I'll always hear your footsteps with me
Like the clutter in your kitchen
The same song you keep on whistling
I just hope I'll always hear your footsteps with me
We’ll take one step forwards and then two steps backwards…
Top of page
Hanging on for someone is quite addictive
When you gaze from high-rise windows
At the lights beyond the ring road and the social club
One girl’s perfection is another’s expectation
And the pureness of a moment always overstays its welcome
If I linger too long
I’m romantic by design
I see joy within the syntax of a shop sign
Or a bus stop conversation in a west country town
I feel overwhelmed sometimes by all the rational types
Who just dismiss coincidence and instinct and perception
As a trick of the mind
It’s always fleeting, like snapshots or flashbacks and
Unwritten endings and the promises wrapped up inside
And I’m all potential, and potential is the spark behind my eyes
Behind my eyes
I’m forensic by design
I’m the sort who sees a magic trick
Then kills himself to find out how it’s done
And then I’m always let down
I’m all details and facts
How can I sleep when there’s comparisons and speculation,
Talking heads, deliberations haunting me
Fleeting moments are insomnia for the curious and
Untied endings are the curse of inquisitive minds
And so what’s potential,
When potential might be all you ever know?
I don’t know
Oh the summer, it drags its heels
And then for every fleeting moment
There’s a fortnight left to wonder if it happened at all…
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Every night we sketch a storyboard
Drawings spread across the bed
Deciphering the day ahead and conversations
Sequences and camera angles
You’re using charcoal and felt-tips
I’m posing mannequins to map it all out
The imaginary camera work
Kicking leaves up in the cul-de-sacs
Where every road’s a movie set
And every conversation has been pre-approved
And road-tested by focus groups
And here, back in real life at our desks
Still imagining we’re filming on sets
Where the cameras film in single takes
So you pick out locations and directions for the cast
I’ll be learning lines for all occasions that arise
We’ll imagine clapperboards for every single scene in our day-to-day lives
And you’ll find continuity from one clip to the next
I’ll be free to improvise as long as it complies with an overall view
Where the cameras always follow you
And it’s enchanting in a certain way
Every word is magnified
Every look considered
Yet we’re bordering on obsession on directing
Alongside fictitious camera crews that film
Imaginary plots that never work through
When the cameras never follow you
So you could leave the stories and the dialogue to chance
I’ll be free to improvise and take things as they come and
We’ll keep up an open mind for every single scene in our day-to-day lives
And we’ll find continuity from one day to the next
No-one needs a storyboard to tell us what we should have known all along
That the cameras follow everyone
Top of page
Growing up on the outskirts of town
To the sound of ice cream vans and flight paths above
And we raced on bikes through the streets after dark
Till that girl got knocked down by a Volkswagen car
And she stayed inside as she started to heal
As the cinema closed and the theatre closed too
And I’d later run through the high street at night
Past the charity shops and the flashing blue lights on the outskirts of town
Endless Threads was a shop on my road
Opened in autumn, by winter it’s closed
As it found no favour with home-made designs
As the kids wait on platforms for city-bound trains
And the girl with the bike moved in over the shop
Opened the boxes the owners forgot and their
Faded plans for a cinema club
Simply gathering dust with the discounted clothes
And a handwritten note, with the words…
“To whomever this letter might find
Here’s the last of my dreams on the outskirts of town
I’m in love with the smiles on pedestrian streets
But I’ve fallen for something that’s out of my reach
And I guess the anonymous city’s for me
And I guess I’m naïve if I think I’ll survive on the outskirts of town”
And I understand, I can see the bright lights in your eyes
And she folds the note, puts it back in the box
Hands in the clothes to the charity shops
And she leaves her bike on some railings unchained
And then waits on a bench for a city-bound train on the outskirts of town
Top of page
I’m asleep on a train on the Zone 2 boundary
Awoken by the weary sigh of a ticket guy
Placating some ‘young lady’ by his side
I was late, I was tired and I lost my Oyster card
He’s coming on with all this tired bureaucracy
When all I need is empathy and sleep
On the street nothing’s changed since the 1990s
(You’ve changed, you’re so much older)
Oh, I haven’t changed since ‘99
(Well I’ve seen your suit)
I’ve still got my paperround
When I get to my desk I’m a different person
(That’s a conscious choice you made though)
I’ll manage risks and strategies
(Is that enough?)
Yes, as long as I get paid
I’m a painter, always painting lies
It was all fine
Til a man in a street said that what you’ve done there is just
Cross the line
I’ve no desire to go too far and
Cross the line
Led astray by the city ways and
Cross the line
I don’t know why but I always try for the last word
When you know the last word’s mine
As a kid I would run through the fields and orchards
(What about your hayfever though?)
I’d climb the branches to the top
(What with your vertigo?)
Look I’m making all this up
I’ve a dream of a house with the perfect garden
(Yeah, you and a thousand of others)
The pebble dash and the crazy pave
(And a 4x4?)
Nah, we’d cycle every day
I’m a carpenter
Chip away at dreams
Til a bartender
Said that one of these days all your cycnical ways will just
Cross the line
I’ve no desire to go too far and
Cross the line
Led astray by the city ways and
Cross the line
I don’t know why but I always try for the last word
When you know the last word’s mine
I’d swap some sleep for a fixed emotion
A G&T and some suntan lotion
A bag of chips in a seaside coast town
An empty seat on the underground and
A basement club where there’s space for dancing
A conversation that’s life enhancing
A sudden twist that I’m not expecting
A novelette with a cryptic ending
Top of page
I’ve been dying to tell you for some time
That my friends have up and left me and I’m skating on thin ice
Threw my arms around a memory
Of laughter in the disco and the sense of family
The rain stopped falling
When you walked up to me
Now my backpack’s bulging and I’m running away again
And my heart is heavy with the words you said to me
Threw my arms around a memory
Of late night drinking and dancing ‘til three
The rain stopped falling
When you walked up to me
I can’t stop crying
I’m running on empty
Top of page
And the most curious thing
Aside from the way that the sun often shines inappropriately on a crisis
Aside from the strange sense of calm
And the way that we instinctively sit on the seats on the left hand side of the top deck of your local bus
Is what happens to all of the secrets we carelessly shared on those January days on the sofa in the front room of your terraced house?
Now things are over, tell me do they just disappear or get broadcast on all channels and frequencies around town?
I guess we both feel like talking
But maybe we could find a way to be discreet this time?
And we're fine with the truth
It's more just the stuff we'll make up when we're drunk to find favour with friends and distant acquaintances
And you're welcome to say I'm often distracted and don't always put my books straight back on their bookshelves, they just lie around
And I'll just say you're forgetful
From PIN numbers, birthdays and dentist appointments to paying your rent
But they know that anyway
And we'll just leave it there
If anyone asks well we just grew apart and there's nothing to share
I know we both feel like talking
But maybe we could find a way to be discreet?
And I'll stand aside, bite my tongue until the moment subsides
I'll stand aside and let everyone think that you're sweetness and light
I'll stand aside, close my eyes until the moment subsides
I'll stand aside and let everyone think that you're sweetness and light
And I'll pack my bags
Warm as the sun shines obliviously
I know it's a poor consolation for me
As I sit on the bus in our regular seats
The secrets we shared in your old terraced house on those January days
Will stay with the sofa and moth-eaten chairs
Fade over time, disappear
And I'll stand aside and let people decide for themselves
If you're sweetness and light... or something else
Top of page
I didn’t want to read the news today, I turned my head away
All calls diverted to my answer phone
Position closed I don’t suppose you’d take a message for me?
My work is done, I’m going home
Well I’m not going out
I’m going to stay at home tonight
I’m not going out
I’m going to stay at home and write my autobiography
A shopping list, a love letter to D
Leave me alone, I’m staying home
I didn’t want to see the news today, I turned my head away
(I’d rather see your picture)
All calls directed to my answer phone
(You wouldn’t call me anyway)
Sit in the dark just don’t come knocking now, I’m locking out the world
(Don’t ask me any questions)
My work is done, I’m laying low
(I just don’t know what happened)
Well I’m not going out
I’m going to stay at home tonight
I’m not going out
I’m going to stay at home and write my autobiography
A shopping list, a love letter to D
Leave me alone, I’m staying home
Top of page
Hilltops, snowdrops, late night dares
Queuing outside for the Yeah Yeah Yeahs
Soft toys, Beach Boys, corduroy flares
Kissing for hours
Up on Crystal Drive
Well I wrote down all the good times
Crystal Drive
As the years go by, I won’t change my mind
We got a motorboat lost in a land-locked harbour
Did a karaoke turn you regretted after
Left your gran and granddad in fits of laughter
And you said at the time
That I’d just forget everything
And you’d never understand
But I wrote this list down
Every good time we ever had
We did a politics course in the last semester
They threw you in the lake in my favourite sweater
You wrote you loved me in your final letter
But in the very next line
You said I’d just forget everthing
And you’d never understand
But I wrote this list down
Every good time we ever had
Top of page
There’s a snap as you step on a twig
We’re frozen on tiptoes in fear
And sink to our heels in relief
Past kids on their paperround trails
Milkfloats and shiftworker cars
And revellers staggering home
Rendezvous at the top of the park
Gaze down at the smoke and the lights
The buildings suspiciously quiet
And I reach for a Paperchase bag
Rip pages from plain A4 pads
Write notes for the city below
And I’m folding arrows, and you’re folding darts, dear
And I’m E H Mathews and you’re Ninomiya
It’s all in symmetrics and aerodynamics in classic design
As it glides from my hands
Past the padlocked park gates
Through the cold city streets
Past the tired chief execs
Somersaults and pirouettes
Past health spa retreats
Venture capitalists
‘Til they swoop and they fall
Paper aeroplanes are raining down
Just to haunt you
We’ll launch ‘til we drop
Chapped hands and sharp paper cuts
Bruises and javelin arms
And they’ll glance off the lampposts and trees
Knock hats off the suits in the street
And land in their coffees and teas
So I’m making airfoils and you’ve built a fuselage
I’m writing sound bites and you’ve written monologues
So, pick the targets, they’ll fly with a serene velocity girl
Glide and then fall
Past the rush hour cars
And the cinema aisles
And the rooftop hotels
Pirouettes and somersaults
Past old market stalls
And juvenile courts
Til they swoop and they fall
Paper aeroplanes are raining down
Just to haunt you somehow
And as the sun comes up
Gaze at the horizon and ask
What on earth is going on?
Pirouettes and somersaults
Top of page
Seems like lately
From leaves on the line to Paxman’s ‘goodnight’
All I ever seem to do is rush around
There’s never a second to think
And you’re running
From pavements and parks from dawn until dusk
All you ever seem to do is rush around
Never a second to gaze
At the pattern the sun makes through curtains and blinds
Or the way that your fringe frames your eyes
As the weekends dissolve in our calendars and
Seems like every evening’s a school night
In the goldrush from status to endless deadlines
All we ever seem to do is rush around
And the next day
You’re there by my side with a quizzical eye saying
‘All you ever seem to do is laze around looking at clouds’
As a book lies face down on the table, a crease in the spine
And we’re supposed to be running for our lives
As the weekends dissolve in our calendars and
Seems like every evening’s a school night
In the goldrush from status to endless deadlines
All we ever seem to do is rush around
And on bank holidays we stop and say
‘Let’s try again next year
‘Cos all we do is rush around’
| Waking Up EP |
There's a saying that hangs in my family's hall which they found in an airport gift shop
"No deberíamos perder el tiempo"
And on Sunday I idly looked up the words on an otherwise inactive weekend
And if only I'd had it translated before
And I've never been one for regretting
But when I'm back home well the words trace my steps round the kitchen
There's a sketch on my pad like a drunk spider's web or a family tree with its branches
Where the multiple marriages break up the flow
And the plans and the deadlines are scattered around like litter collects on the high road
And the more you collect, it continues to spread
And the blueprints I pinned to the fridge
Are lost behind photos and letters and flyers for gigs
With the love I bestowed on the plans
Forgot all the steps that would bring it to life
I'll plan to perfection and skip all the actions that count
There's a window at thirty degrees to the floor in the roof of an attic conversion
It rattles in winter and creaks in the spring
And in autumn the sunshine reflects off a mirror and spotlights the frame of a photo
But the photo's been swapped for a checklist and boxes
On the left there's a clock with the date
On the right there's a pile of distractions to tempt me away
And I've never been one to look back
But there's always an anecdote even when something falls flat
With the love I bestowed on the plans
Forgot all the steps that would bring it to life
I'll plan to perfection and skip all the actions that count
And as winter transcends into spring
The light wakes me earlier every morning
And waking up early at weekends is probably the start of something
Top of page
Falling Leaves
Kiss me in the autumn at the station by the drycleaners and the fellas selling travelcards
Hold my hands and tell me that The Fall will never leave me and The Actionnettes won't break my heart
Write my name in marker pen across the local bus stop and I'll steal you all the books you love
Call the local paper and pretend we're getting married and I'll borrow you my library card
You're the blindfold round my eyes
You're my navigation satellite
I'm a tightrope walker looking down on the sights
I don't know what happened with your sister and her mother, but I don't think they're impressed with me
I don't think they like what I've been doing with my life, but can't they see it's only temporary?
I can't help but worry that your friend thinks I'm a daydreamer with aspirations quite naive
The only things worth chasing are the things that are creative, and I'm not talking accountancy
You're a red hotel on Mayfair
A superlative on a triple word score
I'm a battleship, you're a direct hit and I'm sinking
And like falling leaves in autumn you can sweep me up or pass me by
Like falling snow against your skin, or the cigarettes I can't pack in
And falling in with you is like a Class A drug they couldn't ban
The photograph that makes you smile and sends a shiver down your spine
Gravity's got me falling indefinitely
I don't think it matters my career path's in tatters, I could always take a course or two
Tell me what you're thinking, maybe when I've finished singing, I suppose this is a family tune
I think I'm addicted, I get panicked when you're missing, I need patches when you're not around
I have conversations in my head that you're not party to, you should have heard the things you said!
Like an etching on my brain
Like a letter tacked on my DNA
I'm a chip pan fire, you're the water that won't stay away
And like falling leaves in autumn you can sweep me up or pass me by
Like falling snow against your skin, or the cigarettes I can't pack in
You're the blindfold round my eyes
You're my navigation satellite
And just falling in with you is like a Class A drug they couldn't ban
The photograph that makes you smile and sends a shiver down your spine
Gravity's got me falling indefinitely
Tell me if it ever ends you'll let me have my heart back in a single piece
You're the one I call after closing time
The night bus spins to the spellbinding sound of your voice...
Top of page
Love Is The Stick You Throw
Throw the keys into the bowl and gather letters off the hallway floor
It’s just another summer night indoors
Looking for a sign of your familiar writing like the day before
Among the bills and local taxi firms
A picture postcard from Berlin; you say you’re fine, you’re made some friends
You just need a bit of time to get your head straight
I’ve heard it all before, I’ve read these words so many times it doesn’t really scare me
I pin it to the kitchen cupboard door
It makes no difference what you say or how long you will stay away this time
But can I make a suggestion…
Don’t think I cannot read between the lines
I’ve won this game a hundred times
I’ve got the gold, the silver and the bronze
Love is the stick you throw; however far it goes, you’ll find your way back home again
Don’t think I cannot read between the lines
I’ve won this game a hundred times
I’ve got the gold, the silver and the bronze
Throw the keys into the bowl and gather letters off the hallway floor
It’s just another summer night indoors…
Top of page
Don't Stop
Oh, I'm tired, I'm tired of all this introspection
Each day being led by committee direction
Just seems somehow all of my friends found the answers (well good for them)
I know, it's all I can do to stop calling them
And oh, you're tough, your confidence is made by Teflon
I can't hide and I never seem to learn all my lessons
I can't look, 'cos your eyes burn a hole straight through me (and that's unfair)
I know because all of my secrets are spread round town
And if I start to tell you, I'm not as clued up as I'd like
Just stop me
And if I let slip, there's something I'm trying to hide
Just stop me
Because a lifestyle where I'm constantly living a lie
Has to be preferable to showing my hand
Oh, I'm lost, I'm lost inside a flippin’ vortex
Spiral down watching everyone else moving forwards
And yeah, yeah, you're a fragment of hope but you're fake (don't take offence)
I know, it's like ladders and snakes, but there's only snakes
And if I start to tell you, that maybe I don't feel like dancing
Don't stop me
If I let slip, yeah maybe there's someone I fancy
Don't stop me
Because a lifestyle, where I'm constantly showing my hand
Has to be preferable to living a lie
I went on trial at my instigation
Opened my files to investigation
Caught your eye in a conversation
And it might be love, and I might be mistaken
I took advice and I made a statement
A party line of my own creation
You're a helping hand, I'm appreciation
And it might be love, and I might be mistaken
And if I start to tell you, I'm not as clued up as I'd like
Don't stop me
And if I let slip, there's something I'm trying to hide
Don't stop me
And if I tell you that maybe I don't feel like dancing
Don't stop me
If I let slip, yeah maybe there's someone I fancy
Don't stop me
Because a lifestyle, where I'm constantly showing my hand
Has to be preferable to living a lie
| Other |
Facing up to summertime
A campfire and a box of wine
A festival to keep the workers occupied
Just another summertime
A t-shirt tan, a hosepipe ban
A Sunday night, a barbeque that overran
Just another can of Pimms
A secret that you overheard and can’t keep in
An incident, and no-one’s talking
Summer lacks technology
To engineer apologies and amnesties
We’ll have to try diplomacy
If everything leads up to summertime
Most our time’s spent in the shade
Sometimes summer never leaves
The temping job you took to pay tuition fees
Is never quite what it first seems
Look at summer ecstasy
It’s a media conspiracy of theme park deals
Calais trips and barbeques
If everything leads up to summertime
Most our time’s spent in the shade
If everything leads up to summertime
Most our time’s spent in the shade