1. |
The Soldier's Sash
03:23
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THE SOLDIER’S SASH
It was old but it was beautiful
the colours they were fine
it was worn in Derry Aughrim
Enniskillen and the Boyne
Well my father he wore it
in grand old days of yore
and on the 12th
I’m proud to wear
the sash my old daddy wore
SOLDIER BOYS ARE WE
I took it down to the drugstore
so it could have a little drink
it fell off the table staggered around a lot
picked up three women
makes ya think
Well I took it on down to the pool hall
to get its daily shot
started to sing messed up the place
coughed a lot
SOLDIER BOYS ARE WE
It was very old and very very beautiful
it never drank wine
it was born in
London Paris New York South America
Randalstown Enniskillen and the Boyne
Well my dear old daddy he wore it
just like the Grand Old Duke of York
and on the 12th I’ll never wear
the sash my father never wore
never
SOLDIER BOYS ARE WE
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2. |
Vision of You
03:53
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VISION OF YOU
The night is approaching
though some would say it was morning
the cassette clicks
the wind blows through the walls
I was captivated
by the ceremony of night
you were rewriting the unwritten laws
we stepped into a doorway
I woke up in a basement
At the lovers’ convention
they’re professionally bluffing
you know that
you visited there last fall
you can write what they say on the wall
you can write the word nothing
it was spring when you left after all
and as the scarlet turned to blue
there was nothing really nothing that I could do
At 3 a.m. on the rooftop
watching the walls turn blue
haunted
by a vision of you
They threw a party
to celebrate the procession
of a worn out tradition
through the centre of town
and all the flags, banners
badges, drums and emblems
you looked at them
they came crashing down
like lanterns on a river in summer
a testimony I can always remember
At 4 a.m. in the hallway
watching the walls turn blue
haunted
by a vision of you…
She’s got an agile smile
and a fragile sense of humour
watch out or she’ll call around
she’ll walk in the room
the ceilings fall
the carpets bloom
At 6 a.m. in the basement
watching the flowers on your casement
haunted by a
vision of you
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3. |
Reality Row
04:50
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REALITY ROW
I was walking
through a wild borderline town
two flags on the jailhouse roof
and frost on the ground
the hotel band were singing
there were jewels in your hair
and then the smoke blew in
and made the little room an everywhere
the television man got loaded
and cried into his drink
the wallflower women
they all blushed pink
and nobody there even had to think
about how far they’d got to go
to reality row
PJ walked in
he’d just been stoned all day
he had some big ideas
but he threw them all away
outside the crowd was restless
there was no leader in sight
the funeral had been cancelled
so they’d all turned up for the fight
I walked straight into the bar room
and ran right into you
we hadn’t met before
but I always knew we were going to
you said it doesn’t half show
you’ve been too long
on reality row
The candles burned lower as the dancers looked for number 9
the streets were deserted
when the drunken priest he died
and you tell me all about your marital complications
well you can save them up for your
19th century charity reservations
wrap me up
in your long coat and scarves
let me take you away from this place
surrender to the stars
you said I’ll have to say no
to reality row
A newsflash on the big screen
the four riders yelled IMPROVE
I thought I heard the thunder coming
but nobody moved
the whiskey flowed like water
as the ground gave way
everybody was placing bets
too busy to even pray
you shrugged your shoulders
said let’s go
to reality row
I was walking, well,
we were walking away
from that borderline lagoon
back to the city
and some old rented room
you asked me
who am I and
where am I and
when will we explode?
you said that’s something
well I said you should know…
about the row
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4. |
I Will Wait
04:16
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I WILL WAIT
‘I will wait for you
till the morning comes’
she said to him at the sound of the drum
he left her at the window
throwing stones into a cup
she crumbled her long term lovers
into a handful of dust
‘I will wait for you
until the morning arrives
till the dawn breaks russet
and the moon falls out of the sky’
he wore all his colours
in the brim of his hat
she threw him a rose said
‘You must be crazy
to leave me for someone like that’
Don’t wait for me
I never wanted you to
after all I might not be the one for you
Don’t wait for me
I never wanted you to
after all I might not be the one for you
The dogs were barking
at the banging of the door
the letters he wrote her
were littered around the bedroom floor
well he walked on down to the docks
his ship it sailed at two
her window looked over the sea
and all she could see was the blue
Don’t wait for me
I never wanted you to
after all I might not be the one for you
Don’t wait for me
I never wanted you to
after all I might not be the one for you
The morning it came and went
and the clock ticked on
she remembered waking up
to find he was gone
and in her new love’s eyes
sometimes she sees
the shadow of someone
who said he was free
And when the time comes
to make that choice
between staying
and leaving
to the sound of your own voice
remember her at the window
with her incredible satin and bows
and him with his poppyfield smile
and his colours
and his rose
Don’t wait for me
I never wanted you to
after all I might not be the one for you
Don’t wait for me
I never wanted you to
and after all
I never meant that much to you
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5. |
Things Start To Unwind
05:55
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THINGS START TO UNWIND
I got back to Belfast
checked the street and my plan
saw a band-aid covering the cancer
saw a mother carrying the can
saw eleven lords a leaping
over the house of lost time
saw twelve cabinet ministers
rehearsing a mime
and a hundred hungry children
rose up and cried
if God and the government ignore us
things start to unwind
I stopped off in a bar
where the in-crowd hang out
it was littered with
remembered embraces
there was a sign on the jukebox read
play in case of drought
the Mona Lisa shook her hands in the air
and she died
the fragile intellectual
looked at his girl and smiled
he sent his words to her like letters
she got them before he arrived
I gave them a card
which said on one side
things start to unwind
I called round your place
the moon was deciding whether to rise
you said you’ve got the wrong house
but I was thinking of what was inside
with your snakeskin affairs
and your precious antiques
I knew I’d been there before
the wolf was upstairs drinking
the sheep crawl past your door
an official-smelling envelope
blew in with the rain
and it tangled up my mind
the sirens scream I love you
as things started to unwind
The sirens scream I love you
our memories floundered on the rocks
we were one step ahead of the police
they were rounding up
everything that talked
we had to stick together
to search for the rain
you carried a novel a revolver and
an empty picture frame
there was a dry wind blowing
across the land
as you turned up your collar and sighed
as we drove into the night
things were starting to unwind
There were three generations reclining
on a three piece suite in the hall
and a three piece suit on a hoarding
and a picture of a parrot on the wall
like a hook line without a sinker
the men are lost for words
like a hookline without a singer
it all seems so absurd
’tis the plague of the time
when madmen lead the blind
faith
is undermined when
things start to unwind
There was unease in the air
and nothing on TV
the unease an explosive for tomorrow
cash in your security
like a memory
unlocked from a love letter
you once sent to me
let the light affix its beam
take away this falling dream
in this green and pleasant land
where the blind
lead the bland
drop me a letter
throw me a line
strike that light get on the road
when things start to unwind
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6. |
Religious Persuasion
03:46
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RELIGIOUS PERSUASION
‘Protestant or Catholic’
cried a voice from the crowd
‘Not you again St Peter’
I was thinking aloud
Should have packed my bags
headed off for the coast
had my time already come
to meet the Heavenly Host?
They switched on their halos
adjusted their harps
checked that the blades
on the pearly gates were sharp
I asked them what they meant
about religious bent
they said ‘that’s the test’
I said ‘that’s the test-ah-meant’
They were giving holy orders
I think you’ll find
I was up against persuasion
of the religious kind
It was hailing Marys
at the drop of a tract
said the 7 Deadly Sins
were staying round at my flat
I pondered on the churches
of England and Rome
hadn’t paid the rent
for my spiritual home
needed guidance from the leaders
whose names I knew
Archbishop…
and John Player Number Two
I quaked in my sackcloth
threw away my joss-stick
burned my Koran and said I was agnostic
‘I mean an atheist’ I cried
as they moved in for the kill
the walls tumbled down as they
handed me the bill
They weren’t impressed
with my distinctions
I think you’ll find
that I was up against persuasion
of the religious kind
A lamb to the slaughter
a human sacrifice
I told their spiritual leader
his sceptre looked nice
a hymn book skimmed my ear
but I was only grazed
I dived for cover
as the sawn-off Bibles blazed
in the gore I gasped
‘was it something I said?’
then a solid granite altar
hit me on the head
a collection plate plunged into my groin
they marched off discussing
the Battle of the Boyne
As I expired I was thinking
they’d been rather unkind
but I was up against persuasion
of the religious kind
Bleeding and naked
I was somewhat at a loss
the Good Samaritan was drinking
at the Sign of the Cross
recalling their question I felt totally alone
as I peered out from underneath
the tablets of stone
in the gutter lay the crushed
remains of a Bible
it proclaimed their grievances
were purely tribal
they made me see the light
for that I offer my thanks
I was collared by the dogs
now I’ve joined their ranks
Onward Christian soldiers
I hope you don’t mind
being afflicted by religion
of the persuasive kind
Now if you’re visiting some Irish town
the politicians’ heads stuck in the ground
and the only bell ringing has a
graveyard sound
Someone’s got to stand up or
nothing’s gonna change
till religion
is rearranged
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7. |
Tuesday Apocalypse #13
03:39
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TUESDAY APOCALYPSE #13
Cinderella mends her dancing shoes
she’s getting ready for the ball
and Adam banging his binlids
he’s getting ready for the fall
she sits on the sidewalk
and lights a cigarette
he’s been waiting there years
but he hasn’t met her yet
The cathedrals have gone quiet
now they’re museums for the ghosts
of those who lived in the castles
and those who moved in from the coast
everybody’s got new clothes
even the emperor lying in state
except for the starving children
who wait outside his gate
Just another autumn afternoon
in the middle of March
down on
down on Dawson Street
Emma said she didn’t love him
but she never was too sure
she’d work all day building celebrity rifles
which fitted in with the wishes
of all the poor
she’d put on her black dress
pull her coat right up to her eyes
talk all night about success
and how she’d never be surprised
Well they pulled down the café
where we used to meet
down on
down on Dawson Street
The kids coming out of school
have discovered a new joyride
they’d steal the keys from the company
get in the cars and drive
past the window where you watch them
underneath the infinite moon
I don’t know where you are now but inevitably
inevitably I’ll be there soon
And though you never call me
and we never meet
I guess one day I just might still find you walking on down
Dawson Street
If you’ve got something
you’d rather not lose
this is just another
Tuesday Apocalypse Blues
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8. |
Rembrandt Hat
03:49
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REMBRANDT HAT
I know that you are all
you ever wanted
I just came round to pay a call
you were always
the picture in your pocket
I just wish you wouldn’t leave my
paintings in the hall
In the darkest Easter
Monday morning corner
when the wind whips
up and down the block
you were staring
at one hundred sculptures
I was looking at the hostile clocks
When you leave like that
underneath your rembrandt hat
with your Rubicon smile
and Delacroix’s cat
The trees in the fog
they all look like the towers
that you climbed up
when you were into ivory
their fall it seemed to me
to be quite timeless
O Helen when you cut down
your love for me
When you leave like that
underneath your rembrandt hat
with your poetry rose
and your kisses untold…
Roll up the map of London
throw your ticket out of the train
cast your love letters to the wind
you’ll never need them again
but we’ll read them
anyway
If you leave like that
underneath your rembrandt hat
and your monastery monks
leading you there
with your skin like glass
and your eyes on fire
and your 17 trained psychiatrists
telling me you can’t get any higher
and your best friend’s uncle
dressed up like a monk
and all your agency women
telling me you’re not drunk
with your skin like glass
and your eyes on fire
and the rainwater glistening
on the telephone
the telephone wire
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9. |
The Walking Wounded
04:39
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THE WALKING WOUNDED
Whicker’s city of car blasts
there’s violence in the air
suppressed beyond beliefs
there’s only violence for their heirs
herded into the queue
for the last item News at Ten
those vital statistics beckon
condemning leaders condemn
famous for fifteen seconds
the trigger pulls from the past
short paragraph tomorrow’s paper
can’t wait for the weather forecast
the weather’s forecast
for the walking wounded
Off-sales selling off
to an indistinct line of cars
with black shades on their windshields
queueing to turn into bars
carry out cases carried off
taken away in single file
when somebody got lucky
they resurfaced the murder mile
for the walking wounded
There’s weeds strangling the factories
roses bloom in the DHSS
where a caged bird sings love songs
under threat of duress
the people are down in the mouth
down the drain down the dole
the government files their problems
in the dead letter box marked soul
no social security
for the walking wounded
The wounded watch from a distance
Channel 4 moving in for the kill
where Paisley’s taking confession
and the Pope advertises the Pill
video screens in the churches
postcards to keep of the people
cameramen collapse in the corner
when the chimneys turn into steeples
nowhere near
the walking wounded
Grey faces on a grey backdrop
there’s a grey mist in the air
but the grey doesn’t seem to matter
for who’s got the courage to care
caught between the black and the white
signing on for life
semi-detached from reality
it’s the bar the bookies their knife
for the walking wounded
The axeman in the departure lounge
on guaranteed standby stands by
no one misses the third flight
in the dark he’s being taught how to fly
there’s a light at the end of the tunnel
that no one admits they can see
Maggie and the terrorists
sign the death warrant
you can watch the execution for free
Fed lies
dead beat
can you hear the heartbeats
Dead eyes
dead feet
can you hear the heartbeats
Fed lies
dead beat
can you hear the heartbeats
Heart beats
heart beats
heart beats
heart beats
heart beats
Heart beat
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10. |
The Big Rain
05:56
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THE BIG RAIN
The mothers do the raindance
the daughters file for rape
while the lawyers behind closed curtains
adjust their red tape
and the howling wind of catastrophe
has got a lot of freedom to blow
Romeo looks in Juliet’s eyes
she never would say no
The bankman in the boardroom
buys a briefcase for his knife
and discusses the latest attractions
of his gypsy Italian wife
and the nondescript manuscript
of a poet of a bygone age
confounds his confusion
with a rose on every page
Before the big
the big rain
In the nightingale café around midnight
they play the bohemian blues
and they’re all dancing in pairs
because they know they’ve got
nothing to lose
and as closing time grows nearer
Keats drains his last cup
shoots his last game of pool and shouts
‘it’s not enough’
There’s a skyscraper in a suit
shouting ‘children what have you done’
while they’re out on the streets
he’s got plans to block out the sun
and by evening
the glow of the streetlamps
is overcome by the darkening day
the marchers
are pleading for a comment
but he’s got nothing to say
Before the big
the big rain
At the beach party they’re embarrassed
Brando mumbles about a contender
the cameras zoom out
and the statues move
a saxophone a surrender
and as a madman shakes his geranium
they raise the Titanic
as the buildings burn
In the front line demonstration
they play the death march
to the samba beat
the romance of a testcard
the Lady of Shallott walks the streets
and the stars come out to be scattered
and lie splintered in the pool
dancing in the darkest hour
as the six of wands
faces the Fool
The big rain
When fact is an outlaw
and fiction walks assured
you’ll be back again someday
or so I’ve heard
I can’t answer your
tragical questions
you wrote me when we were apart
I can give you fragments
for a conversation
we always did take them
to heart
The Big Rain
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11. |
Rembrandt Hat (other)
03:32
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REMBRANDT HAT (OTHER)
I know that you are all
you ever wanted
I just came round to pay a call
you were always
the picture in your pocket
I just wish you wouldn’t leave my
paintings in the hall
In the darkest Easter
Monday morning corner
when the wind whips
up and down the block
you were staring at
one hundred sculptures
I was looking at the hostile clocks
When you leave like that
underneath your rembrandt hat
with your Rubicon smile
and Delacroix’s cat
The trees in the fog
they all look like the towers
that you climbed up
when you were into ivory
their fall it seemed to me
to be quite timeless
O Helen when you cut down
your love for me
When you leave like that
underneath your rembrandt hat
with your poetry rose
and your kisses untold…
Roll up the map of London
throw your ticket out of the train
cast your love letters to the wind
we’ll never need them again
but we’ll read them
anyway
If you leave like that
underneath your rembrandt hat
and your monastery monks
leading you there
with your skin like glass
and your eyes on fire
Perfect
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12. |
The Rain Dance
03:50
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THE RAIN DANCE
The mothers saw the big rain
the daughters stay out late
while the landord behind closed curtains
fixes his permanent rate
and the howling wind of catastrophe
is looking for some place to go
Juliet looks in Romeo’s eyes
he’s screaming ‘no’
The bankman in the boardroom
with his briefcase and his knife
hands out tickets for the rain dance
to someone he guessed was his wife
and the manuscript of a nondescript
poet who is all the rage
compounds his confusion
with a rose on every page
Why don’t you
join the rain dance
In the nightingale café early morning
they still play the bohemian blues
’cause the sun’s coming up on the couples
and they’ve got nowhere else to move
and when closing time was forgotten
they came and took John away
he was shocked it was so obvious
’cause he still had so much to say
The tower block under the hammer
is now shouting to save itself
the children have got their dance on the streets
he’s got his plans upon a shelf
and at last when the streetlamps
glowed and gathered in the rain
the marchers lit them for free and shouted
‘let’s start again’
Why don’t you
join the rain dance
At the beach party they’re all tied up
Brando never was a contender
the cameras zoomed out
a long time ago
a saxophone a surrender
and as a madman shakes his geranium
the social scene turns reckless
like a photograph of a distant horizon
and an Art Factory necklace
In the national demonstration
they hooked themselves to a beat
the transmission should be over
the Lady of Shallott’s off the street
and the stars hysterically scattered
are all gathered up in the pool
can’t you recall the darkest hour
when the six of wands
faced the Fool …
Why don’t you
join the rain dance
Where fact walks a tightrope
and fiction seems less assured
it’s not too late to join the rain dance
haven’t you heard
I’ll give you no answers to your questions
you wrote me when we were apart
I can give you fragments
from our conversations
straight from the heart
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Andy White Belfast, UK
Belfast songwriter, has guitar wants to travel. Latest album - Good Luck I Hope You Make It
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