BOO TO A GOOSE - LYRICS:
TWO BIT CAPITALISM
Capitalism, two bit Capitalism, two bit lies...
OTHER PEOPLE'S LIVES
Other people’s lives go round, other people’s lives go up and down
Other people’s lives I’ve found, based on similar rocky ground
Other people still get hurt, other people’s fingers burnt
You won’t be the first, and you won’t come out worse, so don’t put yourself down.
WAI KIKI
We hold onto love, express the moral equation while the scum on the right are kicking sand in your face
We hold onto love, one love, one world and one nation, while the good lord of love is in Hawaii they say "Wai Kiki".
You can kid a kid kidder but you can’t kid time, you can wax very lyrical about sublime
But when the doors all shut, then the bottom line is a night shelf stacker with a tesco tie
You can find my lyrics in the bottom of the bottle where the karma stings and the vision is mottled
And the memory of a kiss with a bride in cream is framed on my wall.
We hold onto love and dance a dream of the future, where the scum on the right are just a memory of hate
We hold onto love and dot the 'i' of inclusion, where the good lord of love rides the ecology wave, Wai Kiki.
I take pride in the work I like, I put a word down here and make the next one rhyme
But it feels like digging in a shut down mine where the hounds don’t bark and the birds don’t fly
Puppet masters all decline, saying “no cigar, better luck next time”
I grab the hope and go round again on a wooden horse with peeling paint
We oil the wheels and secure the frame, but the glimmer of hope keeps us the same
So I dot the i’s and I cross the t’s but my self belief is my Wounded Knee
And it’s always, always, always the same, it’s always the same so I dream, Wai Kiki.
OH MY MY
Bury my honey in a corner shack, bury my money in a Cadillac (getter back Jack)
Bury my honey with a corner stone, bury my feelings when I walk alone (getter back Jack)
Oh my my where do the feeling fly, where do the feeling go
Oh my my where do the feeling fly, where do they go
Bury my dreams in a cul-de-sac, tie my hope to a one train track (getter back Jack)
Bury my love in a box of pine, bury my love with a lilly and vine (getter back Jack)
Oh my my where do the feeling fly, where do the feeling go,
Oh my my where do the feeling fly, where do they go
EVERLASTING FOOL
There’s no fool like an everlasting fool, there’s no fool like the man in front of you
I did my time and broke the rule, but there’s no fool like an everlasting fool.
Breaking glass like a bull in a china shop
Sold my double O gage Hornby train set for a ten pound bag, aint that sad
There’s no fool like an everlasting fool, there’s no fool like the man in front of you
I did my time and broke the rule, but there’s no fool like an everlasting fool.
I got a phone call from a famous rock star about making a record,
but I lost his number and couldn’t call back, aint that slack.
KINGFISHER BLUE
Kingfisher Blue, what do the moments of time mean to you?
37 WAYS TO FIND A LOVER
Smile in the supermarket, smile in the street, smile in the post office and smile when you meet
Smile in the off licence and smile at the school, smile in the job centre and smile at the pool
Smile at the funeral parlour, smile at the wake, smile in the police station, smile at the fete
Smile in the doctor’s surgery smile at the club, smile in the butcher’s shop and smile at the pub
Smile in the iron mongers, smile at the match, smile in the newsagents and smile at the track
Smile in the factory and smile at the gate, smile at the traffic lights and smile when you’re late
Smile at the petrol pump and smile on the train, smile on your holidays and smile when it rains
Smile at the market stall and smile when you teach, smile at the corner shop and smile at the beach
Smile in the supermarket, smile in the street, smile in the post office and smile at the fleet
Smile at the garden centre, smile at the band, smile at the take away and smile when you can
ALF RAMSEY
Of the people, by the people, for the people, what’s it all about, Alf Ramsey?
JUNKY VAMPIRE
In the news today they drag another child away in the cold cold kneck of the dawn
In another play they wipe the history away and rewrite it on the tip of a thorn
In the daily sin they tip another horse to win, he’s a blue blood maker of money
When the bugle sounds and truth is nowhere to be found, all the young blood marching for nothing
In the news of the world they sell another little girl, Jenny’s pictured wearing nothing but lashes
While the hacks all leer at the society of fear they created out of apathy’s ashes
MAUDLIN BAY REVISITED
6:05 in the morning and I see you in the garden with your army of suitors
climbing up the ivy, shooters in their hands,
and there’s a mob of estate agents playing leap-frog in the playground
while the children on the pavement throwing peaches at the traffic on their land...
and I don’t want to go to Maudlin Bay, no I don’t want to go to Maudlin Bay.
How they touch me like a virus in the clammy handed silence,
where traditional male violence is a substitute for guidance trust and love,
and at the fairground rifle range they’re shooting at Sadam Insane,
a cartoon for a cardboard age, a good excuse for misplaced rage to flow...
and I don’t want to go to Maudlin Bay, no I don’t want to go to Maudlin Bay.
6:05 in the morning and I see you in the garden with your army of suitors
climbing up the ivy, shooters in their hands,
and from behind the drab net curtains wait a line of nervous persons,
counting pennies from their purses, knowing nothing is for certain in this land...
and I don’t want to go to Maudlin Bay, no I don’t want to go to Maudlin Bay.
UNDER STREET LAMP LIGHT
Under street lamp light there’s a torn umbrella standing in the soil as a gift for the god’s of rain
Or a monolith, to the biro pushers in upholstered seats, paper chasing, paper tray to tray
And why do the likes of Christ all die, and why do the papers victimise
Why does a mad man dog your tracks, and what has love got to do with that
On a mantelpiece in a letter from a friend of a friend, not a friend to me ‘cos he made you cry
I saw a photograph, an old man sitting in a rustic chair, newspaper in his hands and eyes
And why do the likes of Christ all die, and why do the papers victimise
Why does a mad man dog your tracks, and what has love got to do with that
In a coffee cup, read a granule stare, not a nerve to spare, as you reach for the bathroom wall
In a time or two you’ll be coming up roses, like original sent, with a message readymade for all
And why do the likes of Cecil Leach get their way with stickly speach
Why does he beat you, call you fat, and what has love got to do with that?
DISSIN
Disenfranchise, disengage...
We’re disenfranchised, we’re quick to blame, we’re all dissin someone, we all play the game
It’s disproportionate to the amount of rage, we’re all dissin someone, ‘cos someone has to pay
We live in car-ports, we’re fiscal slaves, we’re disenfranchised, we’re disengaged.
We blame the other, we blame the few, we talk in whispers, we stand in queues
We get what’s coming, we get what’s due, we line our pockets, we hum the tune
We eat the ground up, we burn the sky, we’re all hungry children, but all lost the cry
We’ve all been muted, we’ve all been stung, we drink the poison, we all get numb
We’ve lost our senses, succumbed to fate, we need the packaging to tell us what’s in date
We’re all deluded, yet we all know, and still we buy the lies they sold us long ago
Disenfranchise, disengage...
AMERICANA
Gonna feed the hand that bites me, gonna stitch things out of time
Gonna teach my old dog new tricks, gonna pay myself from crime
Gonna stand and not be counted, gonna raise the level of my game
Gonna plant a tree from an apple seed and shelter from the rain
Gonna worship the sun on Sunday’s, gonna plough my furrow deep
Gonna dig myself a little victory, gonna treat myself to sleep
FIRST GENERATION DUB / FIRST GENERATION PUNK
First Generation Punk, just do it yourself, do it yourself
No more sugar and no more wealth, just do it yourself, do it yourself
No Macdonalds and shite off the shelf, just do it yourself, do it yourself.
www.sputnikweazel.co.uk
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