1. |
6 in the morning
03:53
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we're coming down, late night early morning
going town to town on the night tube
all our friends are gone
they lined your belly with whisky
you were feeling kind of frisky
now the two of us are blue
and it's six in the morning
and Ealing Broadway's dead
we're too cold to feel our legs
our chests are weighed down like lead
our heads are Nagasaki circa nineteen forty five
how the hell are we still alive?
I was puking up the McDonalds that you bought me
we were looking up to new horizons
as the sun came out
like a teenager in the eighties
free and liberated
young and bright and gay
and it's six in the morning
and Ealing Broadway's dead
we're too cold to feel our legs
our chests are weighed down like lead
our heads are Nagasaki circa nineteen forty five
how the hell are we still alive?
now we'll wait for our friends to come back
so that they can let us in the flat
now one of them is angry and a tale she will tell
'bout how a night out with us is her idea of hell
and it's six in the morning
and Ealing Broadway's dead
we're too cold to feel our legs
our chests are weighed down like lead
our heads are Nagasaki circa nineteen forty five
how the hell are we still alive?
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2. |
desert bell
02:46
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my love is as natural as the sun she dances in
as the flower that blooms and blossoms in the spring
the redwood violet, the desert bell
jezebel - she's no jezebel
her footsteps heal all as she bounds
turn barren lands into hallowed grounds
make men of boys and heaven of hell
jezebel - she's no jezebel
poetry and music pour from her every pore
each movement a sonnet and each breath a score
her choreographic intention she'll never tell
jezebel - she's no jezebel
sleep is never as easy as when by her side
to be embraced by her warm, to submit and abide
by the sun-damaged ivory that forms her shell
desert bell - she's my desert bell
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3. |
flat above a boutique
04:36
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they're stoning preachers outside the station
it reminds me of a fire I knew once
but they weren't the flames of damnation I knew
but that of love
and I found myself transported
back to the coast and innocence
where wasted time was not time wasted
and wasting time paid dividends
where we had cheap TV and cheaper cider
we made a pact to always stay unique
such were the goings on inside a
flat above a boutique
but that was in another lifetime
back when I still had all my teeth
when she'd forgive me of my every crime
and laugh at every word I'd breathe
there's a ghost sitting in my garden
it might as well be Gethsemane
but you would think he was in Eden
with his lack of ceremony
he taunts me, he brands me 'loner'
he tears me limb from limb
his motives remain so unclear so far
my persecution rests on a whim
he offers me out into the shadows
he offers me out to meet my end
but the jokes on him for I'd gladly face the gallows
to see her again
where we'll have cheap TV and cheaper cider
renew our pact and always stay unique
and recreate so many of the goings on inside a
flat above a boutique
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4. |
let me be your cigarette
02:39
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let me be your cigarette
take me outside and set me alight
you can suck all the life out of me if you like
I won't put up a fight
then once you're done grind me into the ground
give it some welly, give it some clout
yes, you can put me down and put me out
just hope it doesn't put you out
let me be your racehorse
keep me well watered and fed
run me ragged 'til I fail, fall and break a leg
then shoot me in the back of the head
don't worry for a second 'bout my upkeep
I was never one to be kept
you can put me down and put me out
just hope you're not left feeling bereft
'cause I wouldn't want to
do that to you
for you are a beautiful woman
and beautiful women are like buses
I'd give good money
just to be hit by either one of them
so let me be your long-lost child
your illegitimate prodigal son
make up for years of neglect and estrangement
with some unholy self-serving reunion
you can point out all of your worst flaws
and tell me I remind you of you
you can put me down and put me out
if that's what you want to do
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5. |
parting gift
03:26
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I’ve never known comfort, never had a friend
I’ve always been prepared to start again
I sleep with a packed bag by my bed
don’t get me wrong, I’ve no plans to leave
and yes, I love you dearly
but who knows what lies ahead?
I’ll leave you this song
I’ll leave you this song
the apparition who lives in my head
has been manifested on my breath
I’m nothing more than his host
the drugs didn’t work, I found talk was cheap
now even my doctor refuses to see me
I’m already treated like a ghost
I’ll leave you this song
I’ll leave you this song
I’ll leave you this song
I’ll leave you this song
but I won’t ask you to sing along
it cannot be easy when my every song
is merely my misery on repeat
but the fight isn’t over, no, it’s just begun
and all that was lost can still be won
if we just take a punt, we could break the jaws of defeat
'til then I’ll leave you this song
I’ll leave you this song
I’ll leave you this song
I’ll leave you this song
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6. |
rose-tinted reminiscence
02:58
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when she hit the ripe old age of eight
her father got down on his knees
and said "should I pull the trigger?"
to which she could only freeze
"I don't know" was all she could say
words that haunt her to this day
there's barely a day goes by
the moment doesn't replay
she was from Colorado
she told us all 'bout the cliffs
and of all of the jumpers
and I asked "what if
all of the suicides went unidentified?"
to which she never replied
she just shrugged her shoulders
as we all fell in love with her
and Christ, can you blame us?
she was
the best thing that ever happened to
ant of us
when she was born she inherited
her father's illness, no less
has spent her life taking pills for her ills
how she copes is anyone's guess
and though now she may bask in the sun
the one thought that reminds me we're still not done
is that when her father dies
she'll inherit the gun
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7. |
song for jack
04:30
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this illuminated JP Morgan sign must be scorned
and I wish you were here with me
in the wee hours of the morn the central London sky is torn
and I wish you were here with me (here with me)
dirty cherubs point at dirty river waters
homeless people sleep in sleeping bags unthought of
I think of all the joys that younger living brought us
and I wish you were here with me (here with me)
for drinking alone has long lost its allure
and I wish you were here with me
boredom is an ailment for which there's no known cure
but I wish you were here with me
though I know in my heart you do not feel the same
you probably feel sick at the very mention of my name
hopeful I'll remain and continue though in vain
wishing you were here with me (here with me)
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8. |
the london look
02:34
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9. |
TV & methadone
01:54
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attractions and addictions
abstractions and religions
home truths and works of fiction
all sit side by side
while frosty thorns and thistles
and conmen who speak in whistles
and government officials
attack you from behind
and someday they'll find a reason
to bury you in the sod
it may be an act of treason
it may be an act of god
but they'll never leave you alone
they'll pick your brains like vultures
you're a victim of a culture
of TV and methadone
in a world of vast extortions
and gross backstreet abortions
countless moral contortions
make questions disappear
while false policies are shared
by the honesty impaired
but only to those prepared
to pretend they cannot hear
and someday they'll find a reason
to bury you in the sod
it may be an act of treason
it may be an act of god
but they'll never leave you alone
they'll pick your brains like vultures
you're a victim of a culture
of TV and methadone
loud lights and unknown noises
and disembodied voices
come from lifestyle choices
that seem too good to be true
but if you place your faith in lawyers
to argue your case to voyeurs
you're inviting paranoias
to take a hold of you
and someday they'll find a reason
to bury you in the sod
it may be an act of treason
it may be an act of god
but they'll never leave you alone
they'll pick your brains like vultures
you're a victim of a culture
of TV and methadone
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10. |
utopia
02:58
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dust like ice hangs in the air
frozen in time, going nowhere
one sharp breath, you find you're stung
times poisoned dart pierces the lung
and boredom's floorboard creeks
through which sanity leeks
as days fold into weeks
your bedroom window oversees
utopia's filthy crime scene
all is silenced by the sound
of love pronounced dead with no body found
but you call me, love
and I call you love
and love calls us
paradise is nothing more
than the other side of a burning door
go take the leap, inhale the smoke
the punchline revealed to time's oldest joke
and the rest is history
we exist in ecstasy
now go on, be free
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Ryan Lee Ward London, UK
Brand new account for London-based alt folk singer-songwriter Ryan Lee Ward.
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