Lyrics
The Power Of Hot Air(still working on this one!)
Crimes Of Casio
One and one is two, even halfway up the arm
An electronic abacus with stopwatch and alarm
Got Lot Of Stuff
I've got so much to wash
So much to clean
So much to do
It's really obscene
So much to watch
Too much to read
So much to hear
Too much to be
I've got a lot of stuff (x12)
Altogether now!
I've got a lot of stuff (x11)
The Summer Goes
The summer comes and the summer goes
If I quit work, d'you think anyone
would know?
To come and go just as I please
That seems like a quite nice idea
But I'm stuck here
So little time - I've got to show you
why
I had a dream – beneath a grey Fens
sky
I frittered all my youth away
With comics, sweets and 48k
Well that was okay…
And favourite popstars whose posters
you cherished
And bags of sweet candy and fruit
flavoured chews
And pets that belonged to a friendly
old neighbour
And big beasties that only came on the
box
And breakfast cereals with far too much
sugar
And coffee that made you burst all
hyperactive
And toys that belonged to your best
friend from schooltime
You wanted – you saved up – you
counted the days
And programmes you watched when you
should have been sleeping
And nights spent in blankets with books
read by torchlight
And diaries you started and covered
with stickers
And best clothes you wanted to wear for
all time
Give me my childhood preserved green
and friendly
Help me remember what I have forgotten
Lead me on back through the mists of my
mindscape
Show me again what it meant to be young
Real Sharp Twig
It's 1:16 in the morning
and I don't know who I love
I want someone who would want to stay
in
every once in a while
And I'm not sure if this is love
but I'm trying my best to find out:
been poking my brain with a real sharp
twig
and it's really starting to hurt
Well there's one girl with long curly
hair
Who I've seen around a few times
Another girl who I work with
She knows where my loyalties lie
And the other girl who's the girl on a
bike
The one I really like
I know where she lives:
Her house backs onto mine
I'm not sure if this is love...
No I'm not sure at all
Suppose I'm only human
I'll probably do bugger all
I'm not sure if this is love...
I'm not sure at all
It's 1:19 in the morning
Obsolete
My taste in films is obsolete
My taste in books is obsolete
My taste in girls is obsolete, I'm afraid
Weapons Expo
A
secret art of keeping friends in high places
It's
Zen and the art of Dictator Maintenance
At
the weapons expo
the
British High Commissioner thanks
General
Bastard for buying more tanks
Peaceful
pledges so plausibly made
All
torn through in the name of trade
Exploit
the arms race
Paint
up our other face
A
little war is always good for business
The
price of oil and the flow of refugees
Are
intertwined with our foreign policy
Self-righteous
anger may give comfort but it's bunk
Cos whose
fault is lack of jobs or council housing stock?
So
where does all the blood money go?
They've
got a holding cell in case you might know
but
they pipe back the pictures
with
the solemn descriptions
and
someone in Woking gets slightly put off their dinner
Guaranteed
to detonate or your money back
Guaranteed
to maim, my friend
And
as half the world blows lumps out of each other
We
can look out from our island fiction with pride
As
we know that Britain's keeping up one of its finest traditions:
Arming
both sides.
Trip To Mongolia
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