1. |
black dog, mill lane
03:58
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it flies over your house, tells your friends you're nowhere to be found, to be found.
it sneaks into your sleep, to stop you in your tracks, it takes your breath away.
you are young, hiding from the sun.
you are young, hiding from the sun.
you disappear for days, each simple task a monster far too great for you to slay.
you gather, rinse, repeat, even this tired notion has you beat, and falling to your knees.
this is you, unpicking something new.
this is you, sabotaging something true.
running down mill lane.
i've seen the black dog.
you can blame your genes or you can blame the friends you keep; it's still, still the same.
she said 'son i've seen the future, it will always end this way, end this way.'
you are young, running from the sun.
you are young, hiding from the sun.
and i've seen the black dog, running down mill lane.
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2. |
paint it cruel
03:22
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the gentle knives are placed in me,
from forty paces as you stand there.
all of the flesh on display, sick carnival.
vodka hyenas from a nightmare.
let's let our bodies go to waste,
drinking ourselves into oblivion,
or stay in and bore ourselves to sleep;
let's face it, these are our two options.
i've got no faith in what i'm trying to say,
so i keep it buried there in my heart,
it's just another thing that you can pick apart.
daddy says 'stick it all on the tab',
so we will always be alright,
hey! i will not be denied.
so paint it crueller than it is,
sadness is just a fashion statement,
you'll get a year or two at best, i'm telling you,
before they look for your replacement.
i've got no faith in what i'm trying to say,
so i keep it buried there in my heart,
it's just another thing that you can pick apart.
daddy says 'stick it all on the tab',
so we will always be alright,
hey! i will not be denied.
they come to me, devil-faced, clawing at my arms.
they come to me, devil-faced, clawing at my arms.
i've got no faith in what i'm trying to say,
so i keep it buried there in my heart,
it's just another thing that you can pick apart.
and anyway, daddy says 'stick it all on the tab',
so we will always be alright,
hey! i will not be denied.
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3. |
bury your hands
01:26
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bury your hands in your pockets,
let the lining fall away,
bury your pets in your garden,
with the sun on your back.
you will crash through the evening,
with style and with grace,
i will crash through the window,
onto this not-so-pretty face.
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4. |
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rose falls asleep with her back to the wall,
the sick high street babies will always want more.
the dull glow of everything new and the cold light of everything you thought
you'd kept to one side or kept safe in a box, on a shelf, in a bunker,
unbreakable locks.
we were fed to the city.
if you can't laugh at yourself, rose, you can leave it to somebody else.
they want entertainment so show it to them,
circles in notebooks, webs of your friends, the eyes in the room that conspire
to watch rose fall again from a wire,
to the grin that is bared and the teeth that are gone,
the endless repeats of your favourite song.
if you can't laugh at yourself, rose, you can leave it to somebody else.
rose, if you can't laugh at yourself, kid, you can leave it to somebody else.
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5. |
miles from nowhere
02:24
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in a far and distant land;
from here i saw the fallen shadow of an ancient emperor.
he said 'one thing that will never change around here, is the greed of man and the will to disappear.'
i won't hold you back, so keep moving on.
and when the dawn decides these monsters will be gone.
three brothers now are distant, mother,
once they all shared you.
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6. |
wasting hours
01:50
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- is an instrumental -
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7. |
holding doors
02:37
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he says
'i'm sick of holding doors for girls who could open,
i'm sick of making sense of things that are broken,
sick of holding doors for girls who could open,
sick of making sense of things that are broken
i'm tired of boys who can win, who can break hearts without a word,
'cause all my life i have tried to impress someone like you.
and i'm sick of holding doors for girls who could open,
i'm sick of making sense of things that are broken,
sick of holding doors for girls who could open,
sick of making sense of things that are broken
and i'm tired of beauty with no support that still expect to conquer all,
when all my life i have tried to impress someone like you.
i'm just holding doors with broken limbs.
just holding doors with broken...
and i'm sick of holding doors for girls
i'm sick of holding doors for girls
i'm sick of holding doors for girls
i'm sick of holding doors for girls'
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8. |
ditches
02:22
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the drunk in the mirror slurs 'hey kid, you got it right.'
you are the last resort, show these little lambs the light.
hey, you are a poet now! a lennon-style dreamer,
not just some half-formed man, some faithless, witless schemer.
it's all gone wrong,
you strung me along.
so offer me your gentle hand and watch me squeeze it blue.
it's been a year or more and still no word from you.
i want to gather all the pieces of my skin that i've been shedding just to blag my way back in.
you're going from ditch to self-imposed ditch; you're scratching at an itch you will never beat
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9. |
laurie makes a stand
01:39
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laurie's gonna drink his last three lives away if things don't change, if these winds don't change.
curling up on the south bank, chalk in hand, and laying blame, always laying blame.
humbled by a skyline he used to hate, laurie's too late, always too late.
swimming in the veins of the city as if falls again; throw our love away, trash our love today.
a line on your face for each lie you want to tell, making up a ladder so you can climb out of hell;
a mark on your door for each son you'll never have!
laurie makes his stand.
laurie makes his stand.
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10. |
over & under
05:50
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the final candle went out in your eyes,
felt the autumn unfolding and the grip of the night desperately reaching again,
for the comforting arms of some friend.
all of this unravels quicker than lightning, all of this tears at my stomach lining.
my sleep's been stolen again as the streets sing 'we told you, we told you, our friend!'
took a fall from these snow-covered peaks, trying to roll back the hours, crush down the weeks.
when it hits you that you cannot win, you must live out your life in the shade of your sins.
it was her;
the good in you.
it was her;
she came to save you.
it was her
arms wrapped around you.
it was her;
your last ticket out of this place.
you called to say,
'there will be no escape from the memories flooding your heart
london has stolen the prize from your arms; there is no single space on the ark.'
over and under
for all that i know i've been singing at the sea and i've got nowhere left to go.
i've just been singing at the sea, i've got nowhere to go
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11. |
three brothers
02:18
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the winter stacks its house of cards,
they topple, face down.
her laughter comes and sweeps them up and lays them on the ground.
you stretched to paint our sky blue and you fell into the fire,
you stretched to paint our sky blue, didn't you?
the violence on the city streets turns your brown blood cold,
you blame these things on jesus just because you're getting old.
you stretched to paint our sky blue and your fell into the fire,
you stretched to paint our sky blue, didn't you?
three brothers now are distant, mother,
once they all shared you.
three brothers now are distant, mother,
once they all shared you.
three brothers.
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12. |
winter walk with uou
01:47
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- is an instrumental -
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tiny blue boxes London, UK
bleeping, strumming, and whinging since 2008.
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