Category: Lyrics

A Normal Boy

I was born at The Royal London Hospital,
the youngest of four brothers in 1981.
A normal boy, no happier boy - 
I was soon identified the brightest son.

My father was a doctor and a lover of Bach,
but unaware of my brother’s school conquests.
Happy at the seaside or playing in the park –
I did not think about north, south, east or west.

I will lose my life and I will blind your brother,
and I will leave my wife, and you will lose your lover.
And I shall succeed, Insha'Allah,
so you shall all breathe in the name of Allah.

When I was seventeen my mother became ill.
I went to university to study biochemistry.
My father couldn’t cope, and I smoked a lot of dope,
got out my head on coke and whisky.

When I was nineteen I went camping in The Lakes
with my brothers and their friends to learn those skills
for me to be a better man, to lead a better life,
through prayer, through strength, through faith and drills.

I will lose my life and I will blind your brother,
and I will leave my wife, and you will lose your lover.
And I shall succeed, Insha'Allah,
so you shall all breathe in the name of Allah.

I want to do what’s right.
I want to carry the fight.
Because I've seen the light.

I will lose my life and I will blind your brother,
and I will leave my wife, and you will lose your lover.
And I shall succeed, Insha'Allah,
so you shall all breathe in the name of Allah.

Chalk Giants
I’ll take the only road, the only road I know,
I’ll send you a letter from wherever I will go.
By the summer equinox strawberry moon
I’ll ride the Severn Bore, hum your favourite tune.
And I’ll walk on giants carved in chalk into the hills
and wait for winter’s passing ‘til I see the daffodils.
I’ll occupy Martello towers and watch the seagulls dive,
and midnight phosphorescence will make me feel alive.
I’ll take the only road I know,
I’ll take the only road, I’ll take the only road,
I’ll take the only road I know.
I see you in my shadow, I see you in the clouds,
I see you like a miracle in a holy fucking shroud.
I look the other way (I look and look in vain),
I see you in a storm of driving horizontal rain.
And I’ll walk on giants carved in chalk into the hills
and wait for winter’s passing ‘til I see the daffodils.
I’ll occupy Martello towers and watch the seagulls dive,
and midnight phosphorescence will make me feel alive.
I’ll take the only road I know,
I’ll take the only road, I’ll take the only road,
I’ll take the only road I know.
I’ll take the only road, I’ll take the only road,
I’ll take the only road I know.

Collect all the Empties

Collect all the empties,
we’re all done here.
The brush of your lips
the last souvenir.

Last orders called,
we’re into the night.
A momentary touch.
The impulse for flight.

We have the memories.
We guard them with the words –
the pilots of centuries
of secrets they’ve heard.

The cliff tops are heavy
with thistles and gorse,
the call of the ocean,
love and remorse,

the pull of the tide,
the spray and foam.
The motorway’s closed,
but we’re going home.

We have the memories.
We guard them with the words –
the pilots of centuries
of secrets they’ve heard.

Last out into the night
on my shoulder.

Down Not Out

I wrapped a cloak round my bones and my wings,
Tied it fast and close.
I crept in the crocodile infested shallows,
I swam and I swam and I swam.

I held the crowd in the palm of my hand
(they came from far and wide)
I fell from the stage when the power went down
And I laughed and I laughed.

Send out the smoke signals,
Block out the sun,
Set fire to the open door,
I’m down not out.
I’m down not out.

I sank to me knees in the breath of the storm,
Bees flew in their hive,
Temples of saving wither and crumble
And I was and I was and I was

Send out the smoke signals,
Block out the sun,
Set fire to the open door,
I’m down not out.
I’m down not out.
I’m down not out.

Send out the smoke signals,
Block out the sun,
Set fire to the open door,
I’m down not out.
I’m down not out.
I’m down not out.

Game Show

You can find me every hour of every night and day.

You can see me in the darkness and hear what I say.

You know my habits, my whole routine (no information you can’t glean),

I can only dream of privacy

playing on a game show, playing on a game show,

playing on a game show, playing on a game show.

You see my family, you see my sickness and where I get my pills.

You see me lurking in virtual shadows to get my thrills.

You follow my travels, every pound I blow (you hear my melancholic piano),

you prophesy tomorrow every day

playing on a game show, playing on a game show,

playing on a game show, playing on a game show,

playing on a game show, playing on a game show,

playing on a game show, playing on a game show.

You don’t know why I silently cry

the sweet lullaby of the blue butterfly.

Some things my eyes just carry inside

playing on a game show, playing on a game show,

playing on a game show, playing on a game show,

playing on a game show, playing on a game show,

playing on a game show, playing on a game show.

Good Night

He is a good man, I know he is a good man,
a man of honour and peace.
His honour haunts me from dawn ‘til dusk,
but I have mouths to feed.

Today he was told that he will die tomorrow,
but he will grow old.
His eyes, smothered by a dirty cloth –
they still see my fear.

Good night, my friend, good night.
Sleep well, my friend, sleep well.
Sweet dreams, my friend, sweet dreams.
Good night. Good night.

Today he will wear an ammunition belt,
and you will see him pleading
for his men to accede to our demands,
but I’ll be the one that’s bleeding.

Good night, my friend, good night.
Sleep well, my friend, sleep well.
Sweet dreams, my friend, sweet dreams.
Good night. Good night.

One day, some day, I shall be rewarded.
Good night. Good night.
One day, some day, I shall be rewarded.
Good night. Good night.

He is a good man, I know he is a good man,
a better man than I.
His eyes smothered by a dirty cloth,
but I have eyes to dry.

Good night, my friend, good night.
Sleep well, my friend, sleep well.
Sweet dreams, my friend, sweet dreams.
Good night. Good night.
Good night. Good night.

Istanbul

I’ll bring you chocolate, I’ll bring you peaches.
We’ll drink tequila on exotic beaches.
I’ll take you to see the Great Pyramids of Egypt
and we’ll lie, lie, lie without a care in the world.

Open the window, let oxygen in,
and I will sing you folksongs on this broken mandolin.
I will dress up in the suit of a painted harlequin
and we’ll lie, lie, lie without a care in the world

in Istanbul, in Istanbul.
We’ll lie, lie, lie in Istanbul, in Istanbul.

I’ve got Circe’s eyes on me,
she’s luring me in with her wine and honey.

I’ll watch the sun colour in your scars
and burn away the evidence of nights among the stars.
I’ll make a holy pilgrimage to Saturday bazaars
and I’ll lie, lie, lie without a care in the world.

And I’ll give you questions when you want answers,
and I’ll pretend I’m different to the wastrels and the chancers,
but we will last a lifetime through the lights and dances
and we’ll lie, lie, lie without a care in the world

in Istanbul, in Istanbul.
We’ll lie, lie, lie in Istanbul, in Istanbul.

I’ve got Circe’s eyes on me,
she’s luring me in with her wine and honey.
We’ll lie, lie, lie in Istanbul.

The wood’s in the fire, it’s dry as a bone,
and I’ll fry your steak rare on a sizzling stone.
We’ll listen to the blaze, and we’ll listen alone,
and we’ll lie, lie, lie without a care in the world

in Istanbul, in Istanbul.
We’ll lie, lie, lie in Istanbul.

I’ve got Circe’s eyes on me,
she’s luring me in with her wine and honey.
We’ll lie, lie, lie in Istanbul.

Korean Girl in a Waiting Room

This morning I woke up on terrain unfamiliar to me.
I woke up to faces looking at me.
I said, “What is happening? Why the looks of concern?”
They said to me, “Lady, you’ve had quite a turn.”

I looked in the mirror –
the garments I wore were strange to recall.

“We need a translator, there’s words she doesn’t understand”,
and I prayed to be back in my sweet motherland.
If dreams could be stoked like fires by coal,
the hearth of my heart was in old father Seoul.

I’ll sing the songs of all my ancestors,
and I’ll walk the cliffs of pioneers and explorers.
I’ll swim by the light of the rising sun.
I’ll go back home.

I said to my friend who was there with tears in his eyes
that I had no more spirits to be exorcised.
He picked up my hand, said “Baby, just rest.
There’ll be time to talk, now sleeping is best”.

I’ll sing the songs of all my ancestors,
and I’ll walk the cliffs of pioneers and explorers.
I’ll swim by the light of the rising sun.
I’ll go back home.

I’ll go back home.
I’ll go back home.

This morning I woke up.

Let Me Be Your Lover

Let me be your lover.
Let me be your friend.
Let me beside you
whenever it’s the end.
Let me paint your portrait
when your looks have long passed by.
Let me be the one to
shut your eyelids when you die.

Let me sing this song
when you’re lowered in the ground,
then let me die of heartbreak
with no one to mess around.
Let me be your lover.
Let me be your friend.
Let me beside you
whenever it’s the end.

By the light of dawn,
from the flames reborn.
Reborn.

Let us share a tombstone
in a graveyard by the sea.
Then let us hear the crashing waves
in immortality.
Let me be your lover.
Let me be your friend.
Let me beside you
whenever it’s the end.

 

Looking Out to Sea

Looking out to sea I wonder if you’re there at all,
Every day the memories are more hazy to recall.
You are all I have to guide me through the mazy squall,
Now I’m calling out to you, do you hear my call?
Now I’m calling out to you, do you hear my call?

Every time I tell the time I know that it is true
That when you come to me at night I know it can’t be you.
When I reach to hold you and my fingers go straight through…
Oh guide me through the night and I will follow you.
Oh guide me through the night and I will follow you.

Offering roses as an omen of love –
they grow in the craters of meteors from above.
White spirit pouring from the lips of the case,
losing his virtue with the smile across his face.

Soap bubbles float around me,
bone violins play their melody.
I am a man of anatomy.

Singing the shanties of the slogans of pain,
seeking salvation from the stillness of his vein.
Wandering over in a state of undress,
teasing his father to absolve him and be blessed. 

Soap bubbles float around me,
bone violins play their melody.
I am a man of anatomy.

Shackled with lies.
Sedated by lies.

Mannequin Heart

Marigolds spring in the meadows.
They freeze in the frost and the snow.

I hear the swallows soaring over.
They waltz in clouds like omens.
I gave my heart, my body and my soul.
I lay in the web of my hope.

Vanity says to stay.
Reality says get away.

I hear the swallows soaring over.
They waltz in clouds like omens.
I gave my heart, my body and my soul.
I lay in the web of my hope.

Eagles pick at my bones.
My mannequin heart unknown.

I hear the swallows soaring over.
They waltz in clouds like omens.
I gave my heart, my body and my soul.
I lay in the web of my hope.

My mannequin heart.

Monsters in the Deep

Send out for the men in white coats, then for the clowns.
Listen to the fantasies of beautiful mysteries
of monsters in the deep.

I am a monster. You know that.
I’m no more than just a copycat.
You’re feeding the barbarians and beasts.

An eye for an eye where the lovers go.
A tooth for a tooth where the nettles grow.

I’m an overgrown man in the desert.
I’m dying of thirst at sea.
I’m naked in the winter rain.
I’m a monster in the deep.

Thrown about by stormy seas, hooked in the cheek.
See the wrecks and mutinies, the beautiful mysteries
of monsters in the deep.

We run, we run with Stormalong.
But I...
For I am overrun.

I’m an overgrown man in the desert.
I’m dying of thirst at sea.
I’m naked in the winter rain.
I’m a monster in the deep.

We are monsters in the deep.

No Human is an Island

No human is an island
A sun without a ray
The night without the dawn of day

No human is an island
A spider with no web
A tide without the ebb and the flow

I’m not alive without love
I’m not alive without love
I don’t survive without love
I don’t survive
No human is an island
No human is an island

No human is an island
A forest with no trees
A hive without its honeybees

No human is an island
A clock without a chime
Life with no time to grow old

I’m not alive without love
I’m not alive without love
I don’t survive without love
I don’t survive
No human is an island
No human is an island

I can survive without much
But I’m not alive without touch
I’m not alive without love
I’m not alive
No human is an island
No human is an island

Out of the Warzone

I scratched the sleep from my eyelashes
and through the haze saw lightning flashes.
Dreams of war and angel choirs,
oil cans and desert fires.

I hear commotions and things you shouldn’t hear.
Desperate emotions – you shouldn’t be here.

I feel your hands round my throat,
as I black out up I float,
the band strikes up for the final note –
my soul is floating away,
is floating away.

I reached for you and found a note,
the sheets were cold from what you wrote.
The battle raged across the sky –
“I love you” the battle cry.

I hear commotions and things you shouldn’t hear.
Desperate emotions – you shouldn’t be here.

I feel your hands round my throat,
as I black out up I float,
the band strikes up for the final note –
my soul is floating away,
is floating away out of the warzone.

I hear commotions and things you shouldn’t hear.
Desperate emotions – you shouldn’t be here.

I feel your hands round my throat,
as I black out up I float,
the band strikes up for the final note –
my soul is floating away,
is floating away,
is floating away,
is floating away out of the warzone.

Perseus and Lampedusa

There’s a fire alight on the headland
and it’s burning bright, a beacon of light.
There’s a sound, a chorus of voices
singing “Do not sail in, into this harbour.

Sail away, sail away, to a place far away,
to a place far away from this light”.

For many ships have been dashed on these rocks.
The churchyard is full with anchors and rope.
And tributes are spoken over rum from Havana
of great men who sailed into this harbour.

“Sail away, sail away, to a place far away,
to a place far away from this light”.

Summer is coming, the tide is spring,
pulling me into the light of the fire.
The echoing voices that call me within
say throw yourself into the light,
say throw yourself into the light,
say throw yourself into the light.

“Sail away, sail away, to a place far away,
to a place far away from this light”.

The Angel of the North

I see a bluebird, a songbird, a hummingbird.
You see a blackbird, a ratbird, a mockingbird.

See how the eagle flies, how the albatross glides.
See the angel of the north, king of birds.

I see a lovebird, a firebird, a ladybird.
You see a jailbird, a byword for ashes interred.

See how the eagle flies, how the albatross glides.
See the angel of the north, king of birds.

Remember all your words,
remember the king of birds,
remember all your words
to the angel of the north.

See the angel.
See the angel.
See the angel.

 

The Ballad of Thomas Hurndall

I won’t be joining the military,
My heart is mine alone.
I wont be needing diplomacy,
Where my heart is I will go.

I won’t shed tears in the cemetery,
The flowers I love still grow.
I don’t believe in conspiracy
For I see all that I know.

My footsteps will not tread the autumn leaves,
My arms will not hold up in the breeze,
But my love is still all that it seems…
Oh how is it that this has come to be?
Oh how is it that this has come to be?

I won’t be seeking the sanctuary
Of life that’s close to home.
I won’t need familiarity
Of all that I know.

I’ll fight unlawful supremacy
Across the lands I roam,
But I will love you eternally
For my heart is yours alone.

My footsteps will not tread the autumn leaves,
My arms will not hold up in the breeze,
But my love is still all that it seems…
Oh how is it that this has come to be?
Oh how is it that this has come to be?

Oh how is it that this has come to be?
Oh how is it that this has come to be?

The Dubbing Artist

I’ll summon up the courage and put my armour on,
and buy popcorn.
And I’ll get ready to get lost in the screen.

But then I hear your voice, every character the same,
the hero and the villain.
Then I don’t see anything but you in every frame.

I see you in the westerns, I see you up in space,
I see you with the zombies in a helicopter chase,
I see you with a day to try and save the human race,
I see you everywhere I go.
I see you everywhere I go.

When you go to kiss, I cover up my ears,
but you’re inside, the sound of our lives.
The film just disappears.

Sometimes you die but your voice is never gone.
Your voice lives on.
Even when the lights are on it’s there still.

I see you in the westerns, I see you up in space,
I see you with the zombies in a helicopter chase,
I see you with a day to try and save the human race,
I see you everywhere I go.
I see you everywhere I go.
I see you everywhere.

I come to hear you say other people’s words to me every day.

The Fanfare

It was on the 4th of January, no cloud in the sky.
A city breathing heavily, just ticking on by.
Men fighting bare chested (they look, I don't know why).
We move through the avenues, don't look each other in the eye.
Don't know why.

A prophet in the desert holds a bud between his fingers,
and with his hands exalted he summons his musicians.
The drummer beats with bullets so no one is indifferent.
They move to the gospel and sing their nursery rhyme,
each time.

The empire's crumbling, blown by the storm,
history's covered in sand.
A fallen angel fires the salute -
a hero in the land.

The warrior's anointed with statues and flowers,
and symphonies commissioned by mysterious powers,
and catacombs of riches under shimmering bright towers.
He waits for his wings to carry him up in the air –
the fanfare.

The empire's crumbling, blown by the storm,
history's covered in sand.
A fallen angel fires the salute -
a hero in the land.

The Golden Apple Of Discord

The Golden Apple of Discord was a gift I gave to you
when our eyes forged the bond that would never be cut in two.
But torn apart we were, unable to absorb
the push and the pull from the gravity of that orb.

With every wave that crashed upon the Trojan shore,
I wept for my mistakes and all that went before,
and still the bond entwines us through anger, sorrow and fear,
but even with you resting here, your heart is nowhere near.

The colour of the sunset tonight was crimson red,
and when we rise tomorrow we will count the dead.
And I will have a vision in terrors of the night
until the end of my days that what you said was right.

With every wave that crashed upon the Trojan shore,
I wept for my mistakes and all that went before,
and still the bond entwines us through anger, sorrow and fear,
but even with you resting here, your heart is nowhere near.

Let’s head to the hills, smell the new grass,
and remedy our ills – the trouble will pass.
And if songs lead to madness and words lead to war,
we’ll conquer the sadness forevermore.

The real apple of joy, I know, I can give to you,
because we have been blessed, my love, and that’s the truth.

With every wave that crashed upon the Trojan shore,
I wept for my mistakes and all that went before,
and still the bond entwines us through anger, sorrow and fear,
but resting either far or near, your heart is always here.

The Lisbon Maru

Barman, I know you well,
you are a kind of crew.
You’ve hauled in halves of ordinary
and legion chasers too.
So listen to me barman,
listen to this drunk.
I was on that ship and it really did get sunk.

You see I was a seaman,
a seaman on a warship,
and I know you don’t believe me
because you never saw it.
But I’m fifty years your senior,
I’ve fought waist deep in mud,
and I’ve swum with severed heads in a crimson tide of blood.

I told you it was true,
I told you it was true,
I told you it was true:
The Lisbon Maru.

I was a prisoner of war,
caught on The China Sea,
but never marked as such,
bombed by my own country.
I was left to swim
amongst the corpses and the sharks,
but somehow I am here with your beer and cheap remarks.

I told you it was true,
I told you it was true,
I told you it was true:
The Lisbon Maru.

It’s in the news today,
so I’d like to hear your views today.

Barman, I know you well,
you are a kind of crew.
You’ve hauled in halves of ordinary
and legion chasers too.
So listen to me barman,
listen to this drunk.
I was on that ship and it really did get sunk.

I told you it was true,
I told you it was true,
I told you it was true:
The Lisbon Maru.

The Port Quin Fishing Disaster
They left the candles burning
in their windows through the night.
They cursed the scarlet dawn
for the hours were turning by.
There were beds half empty
and empty chairs,
and fish were plenty
but there were no men to catch them.
There were no more fishermen in Port Quin
There were no more fishermen in Port Quin
They left the candles burning
And they left to survive
because at home there was no life.
They were taken in by the people of Port Isaac
and given all they needed,
they left the candles burning.
There were beds half empty
and empty chairs,
and fish were plenty
but there were no men to catch them.
There were no more fishermen in Port Quin
There were no more fishermen in Port Quin
They left the candles burning

The Plough

I saw the plough in the night sky.
I saw the moon rise.
I saw the size of the firmament in my life.

The great bear rose with the harp song.
The old king called the hounds.
Perseus tore the fox apart with his hands.

Don’t say that the tide rolls in from the sea
and that it happens just so easily.
Don’t say it begun pulled in by the sun
and that it’s just gravity.

The herdsman whistled his stallion.
The clock struck 03:00 am.
Red wine trickled from the crack in the jug.

I saw the plough in the night sky.
I saw the sun rise.
I saw the size of the firmament in my life.

Don’t say that the tide rolls in from the sea
and that it happens just so easily.
Don’t say it begun just pulled by the sun
and that it’s just gravity.

I could be swimming in rivers of blood,
washed away by the tide.
I look the same man to you.
Washed away, washed away.
Washed away.

The Pretty Pride Of Russia

I look out from my window
at the cotton fields below,
and wonder what it’s like
in England.

One thing’s for sure –
I’ll get in there in the end,
once I’ve saved enough
to pay my friend’s kind friend –

a man most eager to help
(he’s said he’ll find me a job
and a luxury flat
with other girls like me).

And I’ll have a salary –
more than in my dreams –
to buy jewellery
and fur and clothes.

There’s more to life than this – the world must be explored –
and London is the perfect place for me to be adored.
Yes there’s more to life than this – the world must be explored –
And London is the perfect place for me to be adored.

London town is where I’ll go and
London town is where I’ll grow –
I’ll learn to act and to sing
and make my father proud.

When I’m home once I’ve grown,
they’ll all stare and want to go –
to be like me,
the pretty pride of Russia.

There’s more to life than this – the world must be explored –
and London is the perfect place for me to be adored.
Yes there’s more to life than this – the world must be explored –
And London is the perfect place for me to be adored.

 

The Shoemaker

White Roses Red

Hearing the sea, you stand
in immortality, impassively.
Hearing the birds, you sing
silently, rightfully.

You will open the lilies on your bed.
Blood will colour white roses red.
All my love left unsaid.
White roses red.

Seeing us be, you drift
into eternity, unknowingly,
saying to me, “you know
what is obviously the way to be”.

You will open the lilies on your bed.
Blood will colour white roses red.
All my love left unsaid.
White roses red.

Roses will redden from white to pink and then red.
Crows will be carried by zephyrs of blood that’s been shed.

Hearing the sea, you see
everything that will be our history.

You will open the lilies on your bed.
Blood will colour white roses red.
All my love left unsaid.
White roses red.
White roses red.

Your Baby Was Asleep

The lights were on and you were gone
working for your wheat,
and the shadow from the minute hand
shifted in retreat.
And I will write your elegy,
“A craftsman at his peak”,
if you can tell me where you were when
your baby was asleep.

I’ve picked up tips and learnt my tricks
from professionals on the street.
I have my slab and cleaving blade
to butcher all my meat.
And I will carve the choicest cuts  
and serve them as your treat,
if you can tell me where you were when
your baby was asleep.

And gentle was the touch of you –
your hands, their calming heat,
did scatter every demon when
your baby was asleep.

And now you say to me today,
through stained and gritted teeth,
that you had tried your utmost
to delay the laurel wreath.
And thinking of your father’s
disapproval makes you weep,
because you were not a father when
your baby was asleep.

And gentle was the touch of you –
your hands, their calming heat,
did scatter every demon when
your baby was asleep.