released October 10, 2016
all rights reserved
- Track Name: Dear Rock and Roll
Dear rock and roll
You sold your soul
You let the media and the money take control
You were fun
You were number one
Now you are broken and the damage has been done
Come a little bit closer now
My ears are old and I can't make out
All the words that you're saying
And the slang the new kids use
Scream a little bit louder for the
Latest greatest face of music
They are never remembered in the end
This rock and roll
Swallowed us whole
This is a warning, I just had to let you know
In n-n-ninety nine
We were sublime
A decade later we were clawing back lost time
Looking back at the days we spent
Recovering from our own egos
Struggling just to pay the rent
And queuing up the blues
A bag of change and an unknown friend
A faster pace and a lower target
They are never remembered in the end
Dear rock and roll
You're looking old
And the kids today don't care what they've been told
I remember when
You ruled FM
The golden days will never come again
How should we take on this modern world
Now that they’ve traded in dreams for downloads
When again will there ever be
A champion for the cause?
Looking back at the time we had
Fifty years of destroying ourselves
Nothing’s ever remembered in the end.
- Track Name: E84
I’ve left! Goodbye!
I know you’ll miss me, I guess I’ll miss you too
You once possessed a part of me
That part of me’s now new
And I don’t know we will cope
And I guess you’ve got no more than hope. That things will be OK
So long! The time has come
It’s several years too late
The lines are blurred
The corridor’s uncertain, is it fate?
That someone’s come to me whilst I’m low
so it’s surely my time to go. There’s nothing more to say.
Maybe we’ll meet again
On slightly better terms
But now we’re here
It’s far too early to think about returns
And the way things are going here
In a somber cold atmosphere... and there’s far more to come
If you really wanted me to stay then I’m sure you’d have found a way.
- Track Name: T9
Standing at the window watching people making friends…
with their mobile telephones
They're choosing cancer over congregation- the penalty of trend…
still they don't feel so alone
But give them thirty years and they will all be crying to the NHS
They're angry with the fact
that their thumbs are curled and they'll need a plastic surgeon
to repair the mess and they're moaning no-one warned them
as they're told that those archaic mobile telephones have meant that they will never be a daddy after all
Virtual graffiti on the brickwork of our egos... and I won't forget
It's Jimmy Spencer's birthday a week Sunday I must wish him well. But wait... have we ever met?
I would go to his party on the Friday
But I won't see him there. Blame his ISP.
He lost his internet, forgot the date of his own birthday
it may seem quite weird but clearly no-one likes to go and clog their memory
with such nonsense when they could be selling horses, killing mafia, liking, sharing, talking bullshit.
So all confused, language abused, and still we choose to cut these corners
Where book is cool, all good is gone, a stop to puns, an autocorrection minefield.
And a message to your aunt
Will do nothing to enchant
And leave you grovelling for hours.
So cue the laugh out loud
And with the pin drop drowned out by the beat of tapping thumbs
You're not allowed
To add punctuation taking you to one six one
But standing motionless in thoroughfares will irritate the meek... but makes me want to push you over.
- Track Name: To Dust
It’s easier when I don’t think.
It‘s easier when I had a drink.
It’s easier when I just don’t care at all.
I wonder what it takes to make it
I wonder sometimes for the sake of it
I wonder far too much than I really should
So why, why do we let this happen?
We boil it up and don’t relieve the pressures.
But when there’s time, time to make a difference
It’s status quo that takes the least of effort.
And now I’ve seen it, now I’ve read the stories
From great to dust, and from dust to glories.
And as I pen this cheerless speculation
I contemplate my plan for preservation.
Why should I build on a house already too tall?
Foundations will fracture, a structure that’s risen to fall.
Amid brickwork ruins I’m still not proving myself.
Collating all the reasons for and reasons not to take a different path.
I’ll watch the chances come and go, they draw me in, I slowly let them pass.
I just wait another day, thinking one will fall my way; my friend tomorrow.
And if no-one can decide for me my future
I’ll sit here and just stare at my computer.
I draw my inspirations from the faults of others
Whilst no-one gets to really see my colours.
In a crude assessment of the current landscape
I could sign away my future with a phony handshake,
Or take a peek at where the greener grass is
Where vehement fools are paid just to kiss asses.
If eroded popularity’s no issue
(and) if you don’t think anyone will really miss you
Then betterment professionally’s an option:
A seamless and a viable adoption.
But cynicism rarely breeds contentment.
Fill up with comfort and overflow resentment.
A fire door should never be left open
But when it is it only leaves you hoping.
- Track Name: Hitman: The Fare
you take a boy, call him a man and this is what you get:
a mind that is unready for the loss and the regret.
you take a country that is broken by the promise of its name
so its dreams are made on tv, obscenity and fame.
no modus operandi, this is generation vague;
a mission statement that is written for the children of the plague.
it runs through all our houses and it walks over the graves
of the principles we stood for and the bodies of the brave.
i made a pact with providence to even up the dead,
to trade the beasts and murderers so the innocent could rest.
the boatman will not sleep tonight, his day has just begun.
i write the cheque to pay the fare for every last one.
amongst the cardboard cutouts i am silent as a blade
i am broken glass and diamonds i am terrified, remade
the billboards keep us captive and the tv keeps us sane
I am happy in my promise to release you all again
faint onto the floor my love, i hoped you'd never see
all the spilling out of justice on this fresh dishonesty.
as the markers like an abacus slide up towards my neck
the bullet cases and the fingerprints are keeping me in check.
the tenement is silent as we limp to the third floor
and you keep me straight and quiet as we come up to the door.
it's ajar and there are shadows there, you break into a run
but you're inside and i'm gone before the setting of the sun