hello. if you downloaded or founded lying around our xeroxed sampler, you may be interested to learn the following: the songs have words. the words are:
'RTA'
you can bring your vocal chords if you like and we can finish off that talk.
i want to see you smile, want to hear you laugh, want to see you walk away again.
intravenous drip is keeping you with me;
i want to see that smile, want to hear that rasp, some joke about yourself again.
road traffic accident.
on doctor's orders we will go to the park and i will tell you you were right about the shape of life, about the sighs at night, about the way we fall apart.
it's a road traffic accident.
'downpour'
lend me a raincoat; we'll go walking through the night.
lend me a raincoat; we'll go walking through the town.
a flipped agenda, empty pen and a random stream of thoughts will burst these banks, start breaking backs; i heard that you got caught.
POUR ON WATER POUR ON WATER MESS THESE COLOURS UP.
POUR ON WATER POUR ON WATER LET THESE COLOURS RUN.
lend me a raincoat, we'll go walking through the night.
lend me a raincoat, we'll go walking through the town.
a calculator to add up all the potholes in the road, a compass point that goes berserk and a lovesong in morsecode.
POUR ON WATER POUR ON WATER MESS THESE COLOURS UP.
POUR ON WATER POUR ON WATER LET THESE COLOURS RUN.
lend me a raincoat, we'll go walking through the night.
lend me a raincoat we'll go walking through the town.
'doctors'
in every home we come of age as tragedy unfolds,
bedtime stories, former glories unwind in winter cold,
at traffic lights we sit in silence, heads upon on the wheel,
in lonely sunday supermarket the echo of the heel:
we could have been doctors,
we could have been stars,
we spend out final hours wishing we'd taken it too far.
on every corner at some stage these children lie in wait,
shielding their faces and looking for places to vent the pent-up hate,
in coffee shops that all look the same we make small talk and stir,
while in the back of our minds all of the time is the image of who we were;
we could have been doctors,
we could have been stars,
we spend out final hours wishing we'd taken it too far.
(the promise we held future men of the world coming apart at the seams, there are tales to be told but not for today, retreat into beautiful dreams where...)
we could have been doctors,
we could have touched the stars,
we spend out final hours wishing we'd taken it too far.
and as subtle as a car crash or as perfect as tonight,
we could have been doctors and made it all alright.
'there is a fog'
there is a fog through the waking hours and you can feel them snapping at your heels,
and underneath, between the jaws of the day, this indescribable shake you didn't think you could feel,
cut through the fog in your head before it gets too thick.
there is a fog, there is no other way; another boy who lies through his teeth. shake up the sky and scream, "there must be something else, cause this isn't life, just something happening near me.".
cut through the fog in your head before it gets too bad.
oh, there is a fog.
cut through the fog in your head before it gets too thick.
'thick of it'
open the window, shake off the cobwebs, sir,
tear down the post it notes 'cause all across the world,
they're saying you gone crazy maybe maybe that you're losing it,
you fought with all you had and found you were stuck here in the thick of it,
in the thick of it.
open the window, slip on some comfy shoes,
forget the rising tides and all the two x twos,
they should have listened harder when you told them they were losing it,
they make it through the night and find they're stuck here in the thick of it,
in the thick of it.
open the window, let sunlight raise the dead,
give us a moment to gather, take it all and spread,
although you started to go crazy and they swore that you were losing it,
just make it through tonight, you'll find we're all here in the thick of it,
in the thick of it.
(inane chatter)