LYRICS "The Year Of The Rat"

Solitude

 

Solitude, I think you’ve gone a little far this term, I asked you for a single room not for the whole hotel to burn. 
My brothers they forgot to shave, my sisters don’t wear bras, they hang around in space all day and sing like sparrows in gowns.

And when the sacred night returns, keep your meat-hooks off my radiance, give the time for our lovers and our friends to abandon their concerns before the winter chill descends, O solitude farewell.

​Solitude you are such a farce, I bet you’re pleased with this affair, the planet got its holiday while we hide like rodents under the stairs.

And when the prince of goats comes back, don’t remind me of your cul-de-sac, we are not in this party for the buck, nor to apprehend your heart, we were just savouring the stars, solitude depart.

Solitude, I am sick and tired of being alone with you, surely things must change. 

O solitude you charlatan, you made porridge with our brains, whilst you and all your Eton mates take ecstasy and cocaine.

And when the sacred night returns keep your meat-hooks off our radiance, give the time for our lovers and our friends to abandon their concerns before the winter chill descends, O solitude Farewell.

Painter, Painter

Painter, painter, painter you got it all wrong,
you strived to capture the body and neglected the soul.
And who is gonna paint the thoughts that sever my sleep
when I am alone with the bottle and all of my sins?

You searched for a truth but you favoured your eyes, painter, painter, paint with your mind.

Painter, painter, painter you are not Oscar Wilde,
he knew the body is a vessel with Krakens inside.
And who will paint the flower when it’s still in a vase?
The truth is bitter and sour but it’s good for the heart.

You search for the truth but you favour your eyes, painter, painter, paint with your mind.

Painter, painter, painter, you were born with a curse,
the will to be wanted, adored and caressed,
but remember Rodin the genius of clay,
he captured the thoughts of beggars and slaves.

You search for a truth but you search with your eyes, painter, painter please paint with your mind, please paint with your mind. 

 

 

Feel Like Dancing

 

I feel like dancing, alone in my room,
here I am the genius of mirrors and cells.
I am building a dance floor with my favourite books.
I am closing the window to my worldly concerns.

The cactus you sent will keep me in check and every time I move it will blossom in the room and in my head.

I feel like dancing, like smoke in the air,
no one’s looking so we’ll make it look better.
The lights will be matching the shirt I will wear
and the music will reach them if they happen to care. 

The cactus you sent will keep me in check
and every time I move it will blossom in the room and in my head.

You see all the memories return when I spin like a bird in the genderless roulette of waltzing by myself.

I feel like dancing, alone in my room,
here there’s no wrestling with petulant views.
The man and the woman are sharing the grudge
and migrants from Yemen have springs in their hearts.

The cactus you sent will keep me in check and every time I move it will blossom in the room and in my head.

 

Sellotape My Heart

O Fantasy I need your strings, ‘coz mine are broken,
you see they closed the bars and I kind of lost the gnome.
He went to Spain to look for the grave of García Lorca,
the nightingales and I are dealing with the loss.

Yet I can’t complain I got a ticket to the future,
I found it in a poem by Charlie Baudelaire,
though I wonder  if I’m ever gonna use it
'coz there’s no one new writing in Marseille. 

Sellotape my  heart my friend sellotape my heart,
Sellotape my heart, let’s start a coup d’etat.

​Democracy what did you bring, now we’re all bloated?
The activists are fighting demons on their phones
whilst Genghis Khan sets the wheels in motion
and we all sit around and wrestle with our ghosts.

Sellotape my  heart my friend sellotape my heart,
Sellotape my heart, let’s start a coup d’etat.  

Remember when we used to dance, we took our faith on a wild romance, now it seems we are all sealed and bound to the lies of the money louts.

Sellotape my  heart my friend sellotape my heart,
Sellotape my heart, let’s start a coup d’etat. 

 

Everyday News

All of the pieces which make up your mind
all of the stories and all of the lies.
The kites in your window, the cradle inside,
the angel who quivers, the fable which died.
I'd paint you a picture but you change every day
from a nun in Calcutta to a bride in Bombay.

​Do you want to read me like I read you?
Are you tired of the pantomime of the everyday news?

​The body you walked in, the lines of your face,
the friendships you treasure and the ones you misplaced,
the ghosts in your wardrobe, the crowns in display,
the nights you discouraged me to encourage the rain.
I'd write you a letter but you move every day
from the slums in Calcutta to a Beach in Bombay.

Do you want to read me like I read you?
Are you tired of the pantomime of the everyday news?

The prison of sameness, the window of trust,
the gleam and the brightness, the mould and the rust.
Tomorrow's a statue we are chiselling today,
let's travel to China, let's move to LA,
let’s travel to China, let’s move to LA. 

​The Dreams of The Poor

Where do they go? The dreams of the poor, they plummet like snow wiped from the tail of a space station, and you, you hunt down the light with a sieve and a knife, can I hunt it with you in the drunken night? The thief holds a mirror, he laughs and bows to his greed, I once met a hero but it seems we all wanted to kneel, kneel to a king.

How do you pay for a flat in Paris? Must you sell your moustache or paint the wives of the banking staff? Will you give me a brush to wipe out the farce of the Forbes parade and the Vogue charade. The king holds a mirror and cries at the troughs on his hands, the void, the void is an anarchist she says, it won’t discriminate, the black, the grey and the white are all waiting in line.

Where do they go? The dreams of the poor, are they the same? Will they see the light?

Give me a flame, the tent has gone dark, chicken joints surge as poets talk of the death of the I, and here, they’re trading a nurse for a snake and a purse, and a year’s pass to the Russian dance. The fool holds a mirror, he laughs and smiles at his luck, does he know the system is broken and his crown is just meat for the sharks, for the money-mad sharks.

Where do they go? The dreams of the poor, where do they hide? Will we ever find the reason to know, they are still in our bones. Where do they go, the dreams of the poor?

 

Dance On In An Empty field

​Are you tired of staring through the window?
Did you dream grapes that dried up in your home?
I would start a bar just to see you drinking
to watch your lips dissemble in a song.
Are you praying for your shades, did you get sick of your third eye? Do you want to sing loud? Did the bastards grind you down?

Dance on, in an empty field, dance on. 

Do you want me to hide under the stairway or perhaps pretend that I am the rock, ‘coz love’s a game for open highways and the plague has trapped us in a box. Will you manage to breathe when the government lies? Do you have space for your wings? Did you find juice for your mind?

Dance on in an empty field, chica dance on, all through the night, dance on, whirling away like a hurricane of light, dance. 

We are now kings and queens of this strange domestic bliss, won’t you spread your wings and glide into the fireworks of the tent of art and the roads to our intoxicated love. 

 

Did your angel dissolve into the ether, is the coffee strange without your friends? I’d free a bull to watch you tame its pneuma. I would cheer you from the comfort of my words. Are you sick of the screen? Would you rather a brawl?
Do you need a new gown, did the bastards grind you down?

Dance on in an empty field, chica, dance on, all through the night, dance dance on in an empty field. 

Vamos niña, caminemos hacia atrás como dos ideas vírgenes hacia el primer deslumbramiento, sin haber aprendido a dudar de todo, con ganas de perderse y también de llegar, como un trompo ardiente hacia un lugar en el subconsciente, más allá de la oficina, más allá del diccionario, más allá de la pintura, más allá del dolor, más allá del dolor. 

 

All That We Have

Tear the curtain baby, aren’t you tired of living in withering heights or in any of the fancy novels that you like. My mask don’t fit my mind and I am sick of the carnival inside, won’t you show me where heroes hide, in the big-wheels of your eyes.
We won’t howl this time nor pretend that it is alright, we’ll take it as it comes and chase those setting suns before we fall into the spiral wheels of love.

This all that we have, won’t you treat it baby like we never gonna part.

Stay close to the wound, the wound is a sea that gives shape to the boat, we need the pain baby or we will get it all wrong. It’s all up to us, Dylan left his gnome in a savings trust. He said it was a gift baby but it’s a gun and a pass of darkness and light, don’t pretend it’s alright, let’s see how it goes with our friends and our foes ‘till the sassiness goes and we are left with the love.

This all that we have, won’t you treat it baby like we never gonna part.

These cobwebs are like mould inside since the day you said you’d give it all away for some plays on Spotify.

This is all that we have, won’t you treat it baby like we are never gonna part.

 

When The City Wakes Up

What will you do, when the circus is back?
With its lights and its claps and its tall acrobats. 
Will you still hold my hands when the strangers intrude?
With their neon parades and their crocodile shoes.

O love it’s just you and me, is it so hard to keep the flame alive?
O love there’s so much to see, will you see it with me when the city awakes and pops its pills again? 

​How will you count the days to the feast?
Will you count them with joy or be doleful and mean
and the holiday stud who whispered your name,
will you follow his lead or stay here in the rain?

O love it’s just you and me, is it so hard to keep the flame alive?
O love there’s so much to see, will you see it with me when the city awakes and pops its pills again?

What will you do, when the circus is back?
With its lights and its claps and its tall acrobats.  

 

The Year Of The Rat

Caligula pines for a piece of the pie, he stole beg and lied and covered his eyes with a mask and a flag. You say he’s a curse but the cyclops are worse, they sold our distress to a corporate mess in Taiwan for a dime.

Remember your punch as it threatened the air, you didn’t succeed but at least you did care for us here in the year of the rat.

Don’t get me wrong I am not a peach, I drink more than I sing and I traded my dreams in the night for a crown.
I didn’t whinge when they padlocked the gym but when drinking joints fell I whined and I screamed for the juice in my town.

Remember your throat as it funnelled the air, you didn’t do much but at least you did sing for us here in the year of the rat.

Stay here as long as it lasts, alone I will crash into a thousand million manic broken sullen weeping plastic cars.

 

They tore down the bridge and made England concede to terror and greed so that dragons in wigs could afford their flats in Japan.Last month they changed the rules of the game now I am stuck in a cage with fear and regret as my pals for a while. 

Remember your punch as it threatened the air, you didn’t succeed but at least you did care for us here in the year of the rat.



1. We Can Write England All Over Again

The night has turned your compass into dust,
you are hanging like a tightrope in the rain
and now that London told you all its lies,
you wonder if there is future in this place.

But girl if you’re tired don’t go away
we can write England all over again
and when they parade with their guns and their blades
we can write England all over again.

They say that stubborn men hold on to their flags
when life and faith have ceased to be aligned.
But what’s the use of living in a lie
when all you got are spiders in your mind.

 

But girl if you’re tired don’t go away
we can write England all over again
and when they parade with their guns and their blades
we can write England all over again.

 

Bridge (we can write England all over again)
 

Take me to a land in Innisfree
where everyone is listening to the band,
where faces merge in song and poetry
and plenitude is all that we demand.

 

2. An Angel Sleeps In Your Mirror

An angel sleeps in your mirror
It wants to wake up but you won’t let it sing,
you’re too busy now narrating the end of the world
and you tell me I am a jerk for wearing a smile.
Oh leave me here with my fantasy
I still believe in the nights of old Paris
where angels might win.

You came to me covered in barnacles
I tried to get in but the tide was out
And now it seems you blame my ponderous claim
that love is a game which you will never command.
Leave me here in my Leningrad
It’s better than your fishcake heart, I’ve started to hate
your storm in a dress.

An angel weeps in your mirror,
it wants to elope your dawn of steel
but you won’t give in, your season of rain
and the irony won’t help, nor your fling with Class A’s.
Leave me here in my Innisfree,
I need to halt your darkened wheels, they lost their appeal
when you bought the TV.

An angel lies in your mirror
It wants to wake up but your hide’s too thick
but now you say the angel is dead
and its all in your head, as you summon the end.
Leave me here with my poetry
I will find the bridge to someone else’s dream,
I will try and make them believe.

3. Almost Perfect Face

Forgive me pretty lady but I said your name too soon,
there were roosters on my steeple when you danced across the room,
I observed the lads beside you and I thought I could compete
But when you moved right to me and I felt tremors in my feet,
I guess I am a gypsy and I do what my blood says
If you have an antidote for beauty please deliver it today
before I drown inside the pit of your almost perfect face.

There were many implications when you wore my ragged coat
You claimed I was captain when in truth I was the boat.
I sail inside your body like a coked-up butterfly
and when the dream was over I had band aids on my eyes.
I guess I am a novice when it comes to love’s hotel
I thought you wanted fire when in truth you wanted hell,
I was blinded by your embrace and your almost perfect face.

BRIDGE

Love is a window where your branches stretch,
there are mirrors in the moon that show me what I crave,
the thread, a bridge, a touch of your almost perfect face,


Forgive me pretty lady, I am still to learn of love
I thought I’d found it in a movie but it didn’t match my heart,
all my friends they told me, it’s a kingdom in the sky
but when I looked above me I just saw missiles flying by
I guess you need a poem to shape its surf crest
all the ones who know are still going for the chase,
of the mirage, of the conceit of your almost perfect face.

BRIDGE

Child of the night, child of the back streets, I need to write you down.

4. Ibrahim Gokcek

Ibrahim, I hear you scream in the quietude of the night,

they said you played the bombing game

when all you had was your guitar.

And they took your holy weapon

So you weaponised your gut

and now you hold your very death

with your finger tips to protest against their lies.

 

Ibrahim, there is a war within, we face cyclops and their knives

and we are sick and tired of the troglodytes

who keep stamping on our time.

When freedom was a passing train

which forgot to stop for us

and now you hold your very death

like a daffodil to lighten up our minds.

 

I know we will find you in our bones

and in the hunger of our souls.

 

The very walls of scorching steel,

would not defer your battle cry,

and the hunger your soul would feel

would lighten up our minds.

 

Ibrahim I hear you scream in the quietude of the night,

they said you played the bombing game

when all you had was your guitar.

And they took your holy weapon

So you weaponised your gut

and now you hold your very death

with your finger tips to protest against their lies.

 

5. Overstay your welcome

 

In love, how do you know when you’ve overstayed your welcome
or if they want somebody knew, a messenger of smoke with their pockets full of tales
will they tell you with your soup, at any given time in any given day
or wait for spells of rain to drown the birds of love, the birds you thought you knew.

If you led me into this rendevouz, please remind what a man should do.

Should you look for sunken eyes or letters to their friends,
what if they wanted time and you pressed them for a sign, a symbol of their faith.
Should you stay there with the light or blow the fuse and run
what if the days go by and you wish you would return to the hole you had become.

 

If you see me down this road again, please remember I am not the only one to blame.


And the challengers we see should we treat them as our friends, or mute the light they give before they can remain  and illuminate our beds,
Is it just a race? Or a relay team of hearts?
When all the stars you knew are begging for a room in the Grand hotel of Art.

If you wonder what the hell went wrong.
please remember even Rome was meant to fall.

 

6. Nosediving into the night

 

Girl you are right I am nose diving, nose diving into the night
I abandoned my pistols in Croydon, I felt I was too old for the fight.
The last time I sang I summoned the muse but she was busy watching a soap on TV
my answer was smoking and drinking until the feeling made its way back to me
Oh the preacher was pissed, he said Christ would desist to lead me anywhere near the light,
I said I’m so so sorry padre, I’m nose-diving into the night.

The doctor said I was shattered, he claimed forty was the time to collapse
But sofas were not of my liking and I was fond of the wounds of the heart
I went to Texas and Spain, travelled to Chile and France just to get a taste of the bars
And then in the back streets London I found what I knew was my art,
And my lovers they claimed, I was broken and lame, I was lost to the caves of my mind,
But I was convinced about something,  nose-diving into the night.

 

Oh what I lost I know can find
I am not looking for another distant sky
All that I want, all I can decide, is nose-diving, nose-diving into the night.

Sometimes the bottle will beat me when I am searching for ribbons and smiles, 
searching for the nozzle of longing and a walk in the outskirts of time,
And though the president says we all have to work in a factory out there in Hull,
I think he is bent on colliding with the rights of any civilised man
And the notary was mad, he said mortgage and tax would make me a true English man,  I said keep your title  mister, I’m still nose-diving into the night.

Oh what I lost I know can find
I am not looking for another distant sky
All that I want, all I can decide, is nose-diving, nose-diving into the night.

7. Margaret Burns

O Margaret Burns
I started a war with your friends
and all ‘cos I happened to say
I didn’t agree with the money they spend 
on bangles and furs
and on rye seeded bread
You see I don’ get when they claim
they like it the socialist way
But then they’re burning their fortunes away

O Margaret Burn these times are insane
We are facing the crest of monstrous waves that are leading the world back to dark and poisonous caves.

Put the mortgage away
Let’s meet in republican Spain
Where poets are lovers again
and painters they paint for the beauty of paint

And not the millions they’ll make
with their flare and their fame
O please wont you help me reclaim
that the rich are the reason the poor won’t be saved, that the poor won’t be saved.

O Margaret Burn these times are insane
We are facing the crest of monstrous waves that are leading the world back to dark and poisonous  caves.

 

I know you wont change even if they give you money and fame

Margaret Burns they are tearing the beauty away
But I don’t care what they say.
We will battle the darkness away, till the end of our days,
‘till the end of our days.

 

8. When I Was A Bird

When I was a bird I used to swoop low
to peck in the crumbs of your coffee-pot soul.
When I was a bird I thought it was wise,
to try and dissolve the smog in your eyes.

But then you took me in and I fell into your mind
it was deep as the well where young lover’s die, When I was bird.

When I was a bird, in a little blue box
I kept the ruins of my past for my poems and songs.
When I was a bird I flew to Madrid
to hide in the bars from my family’s sins.

Then truth came to the door, with its two ugly brown paws
it said fool you can’t hide from the kraken inside, When I was a bird.

(Bridge) When I was a bird I was seduced by the stars that I myself put in the sky.

When I was a bird, I liked my disguise,
I hid in a bin made by your lies.
When I was a bird my beak was shaded and grey
I failed to connect with the roots of my pain.

Then truth came to the door, with its two ugly brown paws
it said fool you can’t hide from the kraken inside, When I was a bird.

When I was a bird.

 

9. Lady Fame

Forgive me lady fame, I am after you again and I am wasting time.
This dude came with a plan, he said we’d make it in Japan, then he stole my lines,
your laurels and your plastic faith are weapons for the western trade,
but now it seems like such a shame, not to pine for your acclaim, Oh lady fame.

 

I met a singer in the street, she had snow-flakes on her feet, she lifted minds,
in the morning when she woke, she searched ashtrays for a smoke and then she sighed,
“what else can we do or say? Do you need us all to betray, the canon and the flame,
for the warmth of your embrace?” Oh Lady fame.


Forgive me lady fame I am after you again and I’ve lost my mind,
I sold trickles of my pain to the idle and the stale, in the underground.
Would you please at least buy me a spade with all the money that you made,
trading beauty for a name, selling band aids to the lame, Oh lady fame.

10. Poetry Mondays

Tell me, tell me you feel it too, the spirit of the Monday rendezvous,
A singer shows her notebook to the moon, whilst poets summon muses and buffoons.
I like the theatre in your tongue, sister show me how it’s done, in this Monday carnival.

Show me, show me this is how you feel, the spirit of the Monday vaudeville,
A dancer throws her shackles to the air, whilst writers write of heaven and despair.
I want the ladders in your mind to climb into the London night, poets know what we will find.

The steeple says the fruit is ripe and all we need is some more wine to let the duende sing and the spirit rise.

Tell me, tell me this is for real, the spirt of the Monday gathering,
The hunter sees the psyche of its prey as rent and bills just seem to fly away.
I like the theatre in your tongue, sister show me how it’s done, in this Monday carnival.

 

Give me, give me one chance, I want to look inside and want to see your spark.

 

11. Poetically Resist

Push me into my sins
I am tired of this self-control
My dogs are apathetic and thin
So please don’t meditate on my window
I need to find a way to dissolve
The Western Freudian pill
Or keep my blue and lilac dream
To stay here and poetically resist

There are ruins in my kingdom
All marked with your maiden name
And the ribbons in the balconies
Are marked with the weird things you said
I need to find a way to
To revive my early dream of you
Or if reality must win
can we decide to/ poetically resist.

Bridge

I need to find a way
To build the wall again
Coz if reality must win
Can I at least poetically resist

The corners of my streets
are full with hollow banking dens
with their evil ways and their petty tricks
Don’t suit the way I see the world
I need to find a way
to make it up to Malcom X
and if the cynic lords must win
can we at least poetically resist