I’ve got nothing really to say to you
I go out of my way to not say hello
Because I don’t want to discuss it
I just want to hide in your coat pockets
Can you be with someone and not be looked at

Over the bridge and past the families
It’s a completely different world
Water and fresh air and houses the size of, well, houses
I sit tight and try to find the noise and I come up white.
And it scares the shit out of me.

It was someone I used to know’s birthday
But it started at another friend’s house
Talking to a girl that’s new in my life
With people I adore around me
As we headed off via a video store
And saw the birthday girl’s sister
And her new boyfriend who she lived with
And we met up with others
Across the road and outside the house
And the strongest image that stays
Hour after the dream actually happened
Is sitting there, across the road
Looking at the people carry wine and presents
Into the house that doesn’t exist in real life
And the girl that’s new opposite me
Sitting legs crossed and leaing forwards
Her foot dangerously close to mine.

Stop the world!
I want to get on.
Like my father before me.
And my brother before me.

I am beyond blue
And I don’t know what to do
I’m afraid that they hand out pills
Like pamphlets for religons
A hit of existential sense
That leads to evil things

You lit the spark
Ding dong dark and your restless body swings
In the breezeI was laid back, laid flat, laid off
And I didn’t even want the job
AnywayIt’s too late now

I’m in someone else’s dream

Let’s all go to the Holy Soul
To that soulless hole
Where the restless people go
To shout
Oh you never got out
Don’t you hate it when we just say hi
They don’t see the sadness in your eyes
Let’s dream it down

I’m in someone else’s dream

Oh get me out
Yeah get me out
Are you having someone else’s dream

Just one glimpse of ankle and I
react like it’s 1905

My friend died
the other night
It took all light
From my sky
So I need your voice
And those boys
In your band
To make some noise

I’ve often wondered
What makes man commit crimes?
But even I would sometimes
If it were for the likes of you.

I was going to have a go at a specific band, how fucked they are, how I don’t get it, how I hate the way they carry themselves, how they are like the watered down diarrhea of Franz, how they have nothing to say, how they should learn to fucking sing cos it’s an actual skill you fuck and competent is not good enough,…but I won’t. I hope that band well. Yeah, I hope they become huge.

But I’m sick of this shit. I remember when you would get beaten up for being in a rock band. How playing guitar in the face of electronica rock of Magoo and Alex Lloyd was a tour of duty, and cutting edge art. When local bands ambitions were to make a record as good as Deserter’s Songs, and not “internationalizing” (an actual word!) and getting a manager in the industry.

When did it all revert?? When did dressing like a band make you a band? Playing music together makes you a band. And nothing else. The only way to act like a band is to be holding instruments at the same time as someone.

I’m really sick of it. I hope guitar rock of all sorts dies in the fucking arse again, so I can enjoy being a contemporary music fan again. Right now, new music seems like a turd lying in my drink.