Merry Xmas (war is over) is a fucking dirge, nearly as bad as that soppy leftie bollocks Imagine.
I woke up this morninā still wearinā that tie
The one with the hammer and sickle design
Threw up all the pills my doctor prescribed
And went out to fetch me some air
The streets were so crowded with billboards and signs
Food trucks double parked in their parallel lines
I thought about breakfast but settled on wine
Always choose hunger over despair
And whatās possible over whatās there
But it isnāt as though we get what we want
No matter how hard or long we have fought
Oh my happiness is a mere afterthought
When Iām with her I keep it in mind
Then she leaves and Iāve run out of time
I sat down today in a high barberās chair
To hear the town gossip and clean up my hair
He said she was seen on the bus station stairs
With her suitcase threateninā to walk
Not sure how true it was but Iāll hazard a guess
Itās probably not more and itās probably not less
If that college kid bookie was accepting bets
The brackets would mostly be chalk
Yeah itās safe to assume that sheās lost
But it isnāt as though we get what we want
No matter how hard or long we have fought
Oh my happiness is a mere afterthought
When Iām with her I keep it in mind
Then sheās gone and Iāve run out of time
I canāt be concerned with the state that Iām in
At the height of the scandal with vertigo spins
Take every audition til Iām Errol Flynn
And bring it to life off the page
And Iāll get up tomorrow still wearinā that tie
The one with the skull and the crossbone designs
If Iām asked if i miss her itās easy to lie
In this world thatās called more of the same
Yeah I wouldnāt feel proud or ashamed
Cuz it isnāt as though we get what we want
No matter how hard or long we have fought
Oh my happiness is a mere afterthought
When Iām with her I keep it in mind
Then she leaves and Iāve run out of time
You see a mousetrap,
I see free cheese and a fucking challenge!
Youāve got to hand it to Ivor
http://www.oldielyrics.com/lyrics/ivor_biggun/the_winkers_song.html
Made me chuckle as a nipperā¦
A heart on the run keeps a hand on the gun you canāt trust anyone
I was so sure what I needed was more tried to shoot out the sun
Days when we raged, we flew off the page such damage was done
But I made it through, cause somebody knew I was meant for someone
So girl, leave your boots by the bed we aināt leaving this room
Till someone needs medical help or the magnolias bloom
Itās cold in this house and I aināt going out to chop wood
So cover me up and know youāre enough to use me for good
Put your faith to the test when I tore off your dress in Richmond on high
But I sobered up and I swore off that stuff forever, this time
And the old lovers sing āI thought itād be me who helped him get homeā
But home was a dream, one Iād never seen till you came along
So girl, hang your dress up to dry we aināt leaving this room
Till Percy Priest breaks open wide and the river runs through
And carries this house on the stones like a piece of driftwood
Cover me up and know youāre enough to use me for good
So girl, leave your boots by the bed we aināt leaving this room
Till someone needs medical help or the magnolias bloom
Itās cold in this house and I aināt going out to chop wood
So cover me up and know youāre enough to use me for good
Cover me up and know youāre enough to use me for good
Step by step, soft softly We are going to get caught little by little When you kiss me so skillfully I think that youāre malicious delicately Step by step, soft softly Weāre going to get caught, little by little And itās just that this beauty is a puzzle But to put it together here I have the pieces
Iāve been loving you a long time
Down all the years, down all the days
And Iāve cried for all your troubles
Smiled at your funny little ways
We watched our friends grow up together
And we saw them as they fell
Some of them fell into Heaven
Some of them fell into Hell
I took shelter from a shower
And I stepped into your arms
On a rainy night in Soho
The wind was whistling all its charms
I sang you all my sorrows
You told me all your joys
Whatever happened to that old song
To all those little girls and boys?
Now, the song is nearly over
We may never find out what it means
But thereās a light I hold before me
And youāre the measure of my dreams, the measure of my dreams
Sometimes Iād wake up in the morning
The ginger lady by my bed
Covered inā¦
No horse ever ran as fast
As the money that you bet
Iām blowing on my cards
And I play them to my chest
Lifeās fabric is corrupt
Shot through with corroded thread
As for me I hocked my brains Packed my bags and headed West
Never emptied a birthday party of oldies, quicker than when I put on Ivorās āMore Filth Dirt Cheapā album. They were shocked @cobham-saint
Great Ivor singalong chorusā¦
Some folks like a pussy, a budgy or a tit,
Some take up with a spaniel pup that fills up the house with [woof, woof]
Now I keep chickens and Iāve a favourite one,
Heās my little cockerel and I donāt know where heās gone.
Has anybody seen my cock, my big Rhode Island red,
Heās mostly pink with a little bit of blue and purple on his head,
He stands straight up in the morning and he gives my wife a shock,
Has anybody seen, anybody seen, anybody, anybody seen my cock.
Heās a stiff necked little up start and Iāve had him all my life,
He gives me pride and pleasure and a torment to my wife,
Sometimes heās magnificent and sometimes small and thin,
He puffs up like a chicken when you tickle him under his chin.
His two enormous wattles hanging down, heās the best youāll ever find,
Madam you may stroke him if you like, if you feel that way inclined,
Be careful he doesnāt spit in you eye though.
Oh and all I taught her was everything
Oh I know she gave me all that she wore
And now my bitter hands
Chafe beneath the clouds
Of what was everything
Oh the pictures have
All been washed in black
Tattooed everything
and also
I know someday youāll have a beautiful life
I know youāll be a star
In somebody elseās sky
But why
Why
Why canāt it be
Why canāt it be mine
In a totally different tone
I donāt ever want to hate you
So donāt show me your bed
The only roads are cul-de-sacs
The only ends are deadI donāt ever want to hate you
Itās not part of the plan
So keep your charm where I canāt see it
And your hands where I can
God save The Queen, a fascist regimeā¦
That song got me into Killer Mike. R.A.P. Music is one of my favourite albums. āAnywhere But Hereā and āUntitledā have got such serious bass that they make me want to install a massive fucking subwoofer in my car and see how high I can bunny hop on the M6.
Itās a brilliant album, innit? I donāt always agree with him but he gives you a bit to chew over; a thoughtful opinion. And then he gives you Run The Jewels, which is some of the best party music.
Heās a dude. Saw RTJ at Glastonbury this year. KM told the crowd to go wild, but specifically told the blokes that if they tried to use this to touch up the ladies, heād be after them. It was perfect.
As to the qualities of that album, it avoids most of the tropes associated with the genre. Itās an album of short stories, basically. from the hilarious JoJoās Chillinā to the historical Reagan to the disappointment of having Atlantaās officials, a majority black constitution in a majority black US city, still manages to preside over a city in which black people are disproportionately killed in āAnywhere But Hereā.
You shared this on Twitter and Killer Mike liked it. I feel all funny inside.
All the lies that you make up? What atās the back of your mind?
Oh you face your I can see and itās desperately kind. whatās at the back of your mind?
Two Icy cold hands conducting the way, itās the Eskimo blood in my veins.
This way that way, this way that they, god how sex implores you