People get so caught up with work and education, later homes and procreation.
All I've ever had are just ideas above my station and a keen sense of recreation.
But I'm shaking with frustration because I'm awake and I'm ready to come alive,
and I've not the time or patience to waste away my life or compromise.
I still feel like I'm 12 years old, playing the guitar as my dinner gets cold.
George, I can still hear your Dad shouting up the stairs.
I'm still so excited by the music, it's almost more than I can bear.
We live in a world where we're always too polite,
where the headlines read just like Orwellian nightmares.
The way that people talk with a kind of piety about matters like tattoos:
if that's your society in tatters then it needn't be rescued.
Track Name: The Only Living Boy In Newtown
Everything was new-fangled and star-spangled.
I got Manhattan-manhandled.
Mad as a hatter and moving like Bojangles.
I was leaning on a broken bannister, I was emptying out my cannister,
and, believe it or not, I was kind of missing Exeter.
Coming home is always underwhelming.
Coming home always feels like a waste.
Christmas Eve going on Christmas Day, two ambulances pass.
Some plastered pastor gives me an AM amen, but I must have missed his midnight mass.
Track Name: The Surface
You ruined my favourite records without putting your fingers on the surface.
They hardly pop or crackle but it hurts the most when they play perfect.
Now I'm looking through my albums like they're old collections of photographs,
they haven't aged or faded, there should be a word for that way in which we're trying to save face. Can love go grey with grace?
I haven't heard that much from you this year, I hope you're doing well, my dear.
Me may never be best friends again, I fear.
But I remember the first time you appeared, I remember your first legal beer,
and lying in bed trying to hold back the tears.
And the way that we're trying to save face. Can love go grey with grace?
Track Name: Soaking Wet
You could be wise beyond your years or only as far as the beard.
That's not to say that I'm a sage beyond my age, but don't judge a book by its cover or even by its first page.
If you're walking on thin ice you might vanish into thin air.
If you're walking that thin line, the stress might thin your hair.
I'm thin as a rake and I'm falling into despair. Falling into disrepair.
I weigh about nine stone soaking wet. This belt used to fit and don't you forget.
Blank stares in the staircase. This is no time for paper plates.
You only say grace to save face.
Tell me, what's religion if it's nothing to rely on?
Tell me, what's your life worth if it's nothing you can get high on?
Track Name: Birdsong
I don't know which way I should go at this road,
and it shows just how I've always been shown.
If you're spoon-fed, you'll never grow.
No-one can do it all themselves. Everybody need a little bit of help.
There'll be birdsong with the damage done.
There'll be trouble 'til the robins come.