1. |
Vanishing Act
00:27
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2. |
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I write myself out of the script
Out of the book a page is ripped
A metaphor, I live next door
To simile and oxymoron
I’m sad, free, excited and empty
I’m peering through the tomato plants
Halfway between the ares and the aren’ts
In a greenhouse, on an allotment
At the edge of town
I’m sad, free, excited and empty
I’ve got nobody controlling me
I’ve got nobody consoling me
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3. |
Nobody Loves Me
03:10
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Can you imagine what it would be like
To hear the words that get said behind your back?
Not the edited version, the spin or the pitch
But the backstabbing, the barb and the bitch
Like a branch that his head struck upon the way down
He had taken up rooms on the dark side of town
Sinking Lethe-wards in his self-made bed
He happened to hear certain words that were said
Nobody loves me anymore
To make matters worse the one twisting the knife
Was someone that he’d known for most of his life
If in such low esteem he was held by a friend
Then where would his enemies’ despising end?
He ran from the house, his reality skewed
In search of the untruth and the platitude
Screaming “Nobody loves me, well not anymore”
(The truth is that nobody loved him before)
Nobody loves me anymore
He swore an oath he would never return
To the place where he felt his ears burn
Indignation oozing from every pore
Retribution would be swift and sure
But the one who scorn, upon him, poured
Also happened to be his landlord
So he blamed the incident upon the booze
’Cause everyone knows that a beggar can’t choose
Nobody loves me anymore
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4. |
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One more notch on the bedpost
The next name on the list
Another drunken conquest
One more paralytic tryst
You keep a spreadsheet on the bed sheet
Just so you can keep track
Of what you did to who and when
Who’s the best in the sack
You certainly have got the patter
I’ve seen you in action
The girlies love to natter
It’s part of your attraction
But what I’m finding creepy
Is that you record their names, you
Chalk the legless and the sleepy up
In your Sex Hall of Fame
One more notch on the bedpost
She spent all week in the gym
Just to go out dancing and become
Your next victim
You keep a spreadsheet on the bed sheet
You’re scribbling by the track
Taking down particulars
A sexual anorak
Sensing my reaction
You tried to back off
With some nervous fidgeting
And an embarrassed cough
I ried through your possessions
Whilst you were in the loo
Imagine my surprise to find
My name on the list too…
One more notch on the bedpost
The next name on the list
Another drunken conquest
One more paralytic tryst
You keep a spreadsheet on the bed sheet
Just so you can keep track
Of what you did to who and when
Of who’s the finest specimen
Of their physical acumen
Who’s the best in the sack
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5. |
Writer Friend
03:10
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“I am a writer”, insisted writer friend, but
In the dozen lever arch files
Of the work that he had penned
Any evidence of writing it was hard to apprehend
He said he didn’t do description
Which I later understood to mean
That when it came to writing…
Writer friend was not much good
He was very fond of Ibsen and George Bernard Shaw
But his work bore more resemblance to “Minder”
He called himself writer, albeit inaccurately
Because “no talent chancer” doesn’t look good on the C.V.
If the truth is out there writer friend has put a spin on it
It’s a conspiracy and writer friend is on it
From sinister, to sinisterer, to sinisterest
If he can’t write about it then it does not exist
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6. |
Delores
02:40
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I don’t think Delores really cares
Immune to all the sniggers and the stares
Well she looks ten years older
Than I happen to know she is
She’s on the bottom rung
She’s a hero and she’s unsung
I don’t think Delores really cares
An attitude like a perfume she wears
Well I used to see her
Running with the pack
Now the boss calls her to heel
She may be working on the tills
A shopgirl but
Delores kneels for no man
I don’t think Delores really cares
She’s not your fool or anyone else’s
If the other cashiers hear
Then she’ll be for the sack!
She doesn’t know how to behave
Delores will never make a slave
Come on Delores, rant and rave —
Rant and rave for all time
I don’t think Delores really cares
Immune to all the sniggers and the stare
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7. |
The Help
03:25
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Meet the kids, my gruesome progeny
I’ve got one of each upon either side of me
Daddy’s got some baggage and he needs someone to carry it
The boy’s called Ainsley and the girl’s called Harriet
The other half, the incumbent Mrs Jones,
She’s more like Mrs Rochester, she stalks the attic floors alone
I heard you say the housekeeper is eyeing you suspiciously
Well if the job’s worth doing then it’s worth doing maliciously
And what about this place?
Its clever use of light and space?
But isn’t one place much the same as another
When you think about it?
I heard you say that my valet may have the look of Roy Kinnear
Don’t let him hear you saying that or he could slit you ear-to-ear
Though I suppose you could be right that in a certain light
The children’s governess could pass for Rudolf Höss
That just leaves the gardener, his nickname is Pete the Veg
He breakfasts upon Strongbow, he says that it gives him an edge
The gossip below stairs is I may be his whelp
They say that Mama had a weakness for “the help”
And what about this place?
Its clever use of light and space?
But isn’t one place much the same as another
When you think about it?
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8. |
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9. |
Vermouth
03:10
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My arrival at the car park
Was heralded by the horns
Of the boy racers, in their Golf GTIs
And their souped-up Peugeot 205s.
As I made my way in past the greeter,
An exceptionally camp young man
With a thin strip of a Kevin Rowland goatee
And wild, speedy eyes, I heard him say:
“Well I could eat something, but I don’t know what”
To his geeky-looking, overweight,
But nonetheless equally camp companion
In the lumberjack shirt.
As I made my way over to the drinks aisle
I chanced upon two stoners.
They were together, but not together,
If you know what I mean. These two stoners I’d seen
Not 10 minutes previously in the local Wetherspoons pub,
They were wandering aimlessly
Inside the converted cinema
As if in search of seats long-gone.
They were purchasing chocolate and crisps
In copious quantities. Totally unselfconsciously.
As for me, I was buying vermouth.
As I emerged back into the car park,
Those boy racers now one thousand strong,
And the Dexy’s-Midnight-Runners-frontman-look-alike
Still in a quandary about what to have for his tea
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10. |
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I’m persona non grata in Margam Place
Persona non grata, I can’t show my face
But to be honest I couldn’t care less
That I’m persona non grata in Margam Place
I’m persona non grata in Margam Place
Persona non grata, a total disgrace
I’m glad to be out of that wilderness
I’m persona non grata in Margam Place
You know how much I like to be
Offending common decency
You know there’s nothing I like more
Than being turned back on the door
I’m persona non grata
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11. |
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Drinking in the Con Club on a busy Christmas Eve
Ken Park, civil servant, has got a few tricks up his sleeve,
He’s playing with his mobile phone
And smirking at the barmaid.
Her mobile rings. It’s Ken, text messaging.
She tells him: “Ken you could have just ordered!”
But there’ll be techno wizardry inside of Ken Park’s head.
I call my brother, I’ve got a few games for his boys
But it’s difcult to make myself heard above the Tory noise.
Ken’s going on about his NVQ
And his forklift driver’s licence, too.
My brother and his girlfriend
They’re already on their way. I tell them:
“If you get trouble on the door then tell them Cliff says it’s okay.”
Ken Park says: “If you google my name,
Then you don’t get me,
You get the movie,
It’s a lm see — Ken Park.”
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12. |
Growing Old
02:35
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Old men are like young boys
Young boys are like old men
Growing old might be like meeting
Someone you’ve forgotten
Old women are like young girls
Young girls like old women
Growing old might be like meeting
Someone you’ve forgotten
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13. |
Man Missing
03:07
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There’s a man missing
He just excused himself
Finished up his cup of tea
And put his book back on the shelf
Man Missing — he’s absent without leave
I bet the office gossips are laughing up their sleeves
There’s a Home Guard
Of carpet slippers standing down
An echoing cloakroom
Of empty raincoats just hanging around
Man Missing — he’s absent without leave
I bet the office gossips are laughing up their sleeves
I never meant to hurt you
I guess the reason why I went away
Was because I was afraid
That one day you’d go astray
Man Missing — he’s done a Lord Lucan
I bet the ambulance chasers are running as fast as they can
I never meant to hurt you
I guess the reason why I went away
Was because I was afraid
That one day you’d go astray
I never meant to hurt you
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THE HEPBURNS Wales, UK
The Hepburns are a Welsh indie band from Llanelli, South-West Wales. They have recorded thirteen albums, two EPs, one single and three BBC sessions. 'Electric Lliedi Land' was released in September 2020, followed by a cover version of Vic Godard's 'I'll Find Out Over Time'. They also contributed to three Corona Underground Projects. A new album feat. Estella Rosa is due for release in Oct. 2021. ... more
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