1. |
The Leftovers
02:43
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I've got no one else better than myself to blame again.
Four long lonely months have passed since I asked you,
Why the long face?
You might not know, you might not care.
You better start listening to someone else's whispering whiles a while.
And you better stop bothering all of the offering hands.
Or just take what they've got for you and then you might just eat.
Take what they've got for you and then take what they leave.
I've got nothing else better than the hand-me-downs to pass around.
Six long tattered strands have snapped since I landed face flat in the sand.
You might not know, you might not care.
You better start paying heed to someone else's non-believing words that hurt
And you better stop bothering all of the offering hands.
Or just take what they've got for you and then you might just eat.
Take what they've got for you and then take what they leave.
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2. |
Time to work it out
02:58
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The warning says don't scale the fence
But you might think of former glories.
In the one instance that you might wander in,
Beyond the boundary where the sound of the hounds spreads through the night.
You get yourself in some situations
(You get yourself into some scrapes)
You thought you would have learned by now.
(You could have, should have learned by now)
And what it seems by estimation.
(It seems you might just have to)
Is that it's time to work it out.
The waiting room is full of fools
Who think that you might not be leaving.
When the signals change and you mount the rails
Into the valleys, past the valleys which lead straight to hell.
Chorus
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3. |
Capple's Bay
04:42
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When the seas are full of harm, you can see them holding on,
All the beams are sinking, all the queens are limping,
Yet they don't need no help at all.
In the bow or in the stern we face the lessons we might learn
All the oars are rowing, the fear of ill-fate growing,
For what it next has got in store.
Set sail, set sail, head for Capple's bay.
They'll set the sails upon your early grave
All the rigging's falling, from the crow's nest calling
That you might make it back today.
When the thieves come out at dawn, they won't steal what they don't want.
In the sack it's stashed, well-painted photographs detail the culprit and his slave.
Then the blue lights flicker on. Down the alley knelt in arms
With all his wisdom preying, it goes without his saying,
That he ain't gonna make it home.
Chorus
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4. |
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There's always one, the first comes round then the last one warns you,
Don't look out for when it comes.
There's always time to get one more before the force can find you,
But don't look out for when it comes.
It comes to greet you, just to keep you holding on.
There's always one to tell the tale when the story's failing,
But don't believe a word, not one.
There's always lies to cover up before the thought has found you,
Don't agree, just let it run.
Chorus..
There's always something to say when the silence haunts you,
Don't recoil into bland hope.
That's always it, fit for kings but kept for princes,
Don't you take it to your heart.
Chorus..
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5. |
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If she sold miracles then we wouldn't need no parachutes to bring us back down to the ground.
Is it so unreasonable that we might like to see it all, before that bright morning comes round.
And please don't you tease me with it, give me everything I wanted,
So I've got something I can brag about.
She said she won't leave me begging 'cos the ropes are fraying and the beams are sagging. Is love all that really counts?
'Cos love don't rock me in my boat, it don't float me round my moat, it just leaves me run aground.
But love don't rock me in my boat, don't float me round my moat, just leave me run aground.
If she couldn't wait to meet me I'd be speaking so discreetly she wouldn't even catch my name.
Hanging out by the news-stands weekly; the underground as she bounds so sweetly out; I'll be always there to blame.
And please don't you take it lightly, give me the kicking of a lifetime,
So I've got something I can cry about.
She said she won't leave me begging, on my knees I'm bended, in a phrase I'm sending love. Is that what really counts?
Chorus
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Thompson Crowley Adelaide, Australia
After many years wandering around Britain in campervans, tents; on bikes; with prams, bags, buggies, I now find myself in Spain, preparing to flee to Australia. I'll be leaving behind the bands I created in London and Edinburgh, such as: The Rum Deals, The Patches & The Fed Peasants. Read about my adventures here: www.facebook.com/athomeinthebushes And for me, well, something new is coming... ... more
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