. . .
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Yeah
Call it curiosity but I really want to see this thing through
The so-called music industry spat me out and I left a bad taste in it's mouth
It's big, whore-like mouth
Pub gigs and sporadic tours see me fine but I cannot let go of the dream
So I put my head down, put pen to paper, couple hours later, got another expendable song
And it goes just like this
And time, time's running out
I'm getting older and I have nothing to show for myself
But I still honour my art
And this is just the start of another unrealistic adventure
I don't do requests
I don't think I'm the best
I just get a kick out of being possessed inside a song
Sing it out loud
Pressing my fingers down on the steel strings
It's just one of those things
It's just one of those things
Say what you want of me, I have heard it all before
The so-called critics critically change their criticisms to fit the current scene's vision
Some people call me a sellout from the safety of an internet messageboard
But the masochist in me, it embraces the abuse like a historic warrior's sword
And I still say
And time, time's running out
I'm getting older and I have nothing to show for myself
But I still honour my art
And this is just the start of another unrealistic adventure
I don't do requests
I don't think I'm the best
I just get a kick out of being possessed inside a song
Sing it out loud
Pressing my fingers down on the steel strings
It's just one of those things
And I get pretty shy when people all rendezvous collectively around me
And I act like a dick when I get attention I don't quite deserve
And I get pretty scared when I consider I don't have a mortgage or a backup plan
But it doesn't mean I'm lazy just because you hate your job
And it doesn't mean I'm crazy just 'cause I'm singing on my own
And if this, if this isn't what I'm born for then where do I belong?
'Cause this, this is what I dreamt of when I was just a little lad, it makes me feel so strong
And time, time's running out
I'm getting older and I have nothing to show for myself
But I still honour my art
And this is just the start of another unrealistic adventure
I don't do requests
I don't think I'm the best
I just get a kick out of being possessed inside a song
Sing it out loud
Pressing my fingers down on the steel strings
It's just one of those things
. . .
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Let's sink another drink and think about the things we used to believe
Let's sit here sipping beer, static atmosphere is just what we need
Here we go again
We're such foolish men
But it's not the same as back then
Some people wait a lifetime, some simply will accept
Some of us crash-land, some of us eject
Some restore the blood flow, some just let it go blue
Some of us obsess, some move on to something new
She makes me dream of being a strong man
And it's true, of all the people
There's only you I think of when the ship is going down
Is going down
Is going down
Let's get it right this time, too many ugly stories with ugly endings
Let's build some walls around us, a fort for pacifists to share
Here we go again
But it's not the same, my friends
The third jonquil begins
Some people wait a lifetime, some simply will accept
Some of us crash-land, some of us eject
Some restore the blood flow, some just let it go blue
Some of us obsess, some move on to something new
She makes me dream of being a strong man
And it's true, of all the people
There's only you I think of when the ship is going down
And it's true, of all the people
There's only you I think of when the ship is going down
Yes, the ship is going down
Is going down
Is going down
Is going down
. . .
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Jump onto the go-kart, take turns to take part
Drinking cold tea, overly sweet dreams
Koi fish and roses will fall but none of us could ever forget it all
Caught in a gold frame, yeah, yeah
Sit under the archway, fake cough for a sick day
Amethyst on display with Devon cliff clay reflecting the dusty rays
Pickles and fresh vegetables, none of us could ever forget it all
Rush down the blue slide, yeah, yeah
And we can close our eyes and be there in an instant
And we can stop our hearts but the blood flow is so constant
I constantly think of you and the things I should have said to you
The strongest of handshakes quashes past mistakes
The whitest of hair shines whilst you top me up with fine cheap wine
Snooker balls rolling in tunnels, none of us could ever forget it all
Whistling songs for the birds
And we can close our eyes and be there in an instant, yeah
And we can stop our hearts but the blood flow is so constant
I constantly think of you and the things I should have said to you
Mister Goodchild
Mister Goodchild
. . .
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The same old pub with the same old folk
The same sticky table made of chestnut oak
The same old stout and the same bad jokes
And we laugh and we sway almost every other day
And it's true what they say
We don't belong here, no
We don't belong here
Was it worth the wait?
He wished away every day
When I was a young boy, I dreamed of being an adult
Now I long for the simplicity of being a reckless child
Throwing stones, climbing trees, digging holes
Decades later, brittle bones, mental disease, financial goals
I've become my own traitor
And every day, this town becomes a little part of me
Still, every day, a part of this town grows apart from me
Yes, and every day, I find myself, understandably, misunderstood
Yes, and every day, I develop more love and hate for this place that we call Brentwood
The same old T-shirt and the same old jeans
The same old footpaths and muddy ravines
The same reality and the same old dreams
I wanted to feel like a ship but instead I'm a submarine
Submerged in fickle shit
I don't belong here, no
I don't belong here
Was it worth the wait?
He wished away every day
When I was a young boy, I dreamed of being an adult
Now I long for the simplicity of being a reckless child
You made a wish, blew out the flames, ate the icing on the He-Man cake
Now that's finished, we're not the same, this is precisely what young David said was fake
And every day, this town becomes a little part of me
Still, every day, part of this town grows apart from me, yeah
Yes, and every day, I find myself, understandably, misunderstood, yeah
Yes, and every day, I develop more love and hate for this place that we call Brentwood
I'm trying to belittle the way I used to think
And I'm trying to be committal but the foundations still sink
I keep telling myself that it'll be the same in any other town
If you switch all the names around it'll still be Brentwood town
If you switch the letters around, you're left with bored town
Was it worth the wait?
He wished away every day
When I was a young boy, I dreamed of being an adult
Now I long for the simplicity of being a reckless child
We would bunk school and get shitty grades
We'd smoke and laugh until we could not breathe
Never play the stalls, we don't get paid
We're not chief of staff, we're still so naive
And every day, this town becomes a little part of me
Still, every day, a part of this town grows apart from me
Yes, and every day, I find myself, understandably, misunderstood
Yes, and every day, I develop more love and hate for this place that we call Brentwood
. . .
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Stood here minding my own business, good company and a quality pint of Guinness
When suddenly, here comes a stranger with an opinion or two
He does not understand the danger of the proverbial ice that he sways on
But effortlessly, he encapsulates all that's annoying
I'm talking to a titanic dick
Oh, how I'd love to kick into a song that would make him sick
A chorus that could fool him into thinking that this song's about no-one in particular
But it is
I hope he's not here 'cause he's a dick
A self-obsessed, non-fictitious dick
So, about the time I bumped into him at the bar, he rudely discussed my family and blah, blah, blah
He told me I should get a real job, I wondered what that was
Nine to five until you die
I also pondered what on earth his name was, I recognised his sly, bulbous features
I asked the drunken preacher his name, quick, while sipping on my hard-earned drink
And he revealed he was a complete and utter dick, it sounds harsh but he was a dick
The world's biggest royal dick
I feel sorry for his missus, it probably pisses her off that she kisses that thing daily
Can't emphasise enough
The guy is an absolute dick like a magician without the magic tricks
The third verse won't try to be cryptic, no metaphors or quaint hieroglyphics
That way I may just accentuate how much you're not my mate
But I guess it'll just have to wait 'cause I can't find the words
Like the dodos couldn't find the rest of the birds
I know that this sounds absurd but rest assured, you will not be leaving empty-handed
Now here's your award
Congratulations, you're the world's biggest
Congratulations, you're the world's biggest
Congratulations, you're the world's biggest
Congratulations, you're the world's biggest dick
. . .
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Walking down towards water's meet
Removing shingle from weak, tired feet
Numbing them down in the cool stream
Feeling slightly sick from the cream tea
Let's hope Norris doesn't find us
Let's hope that this hill doesn't kill us
Let's move here and grow old together
Love's last gift is remembrance
So when I'm away, the thought of you always enhances my performance
Lying awake in a hotel bed
Dreaming of sleeping with you instead
Bruschetta could never get boring
Outside, it's pouring in quaint little England
You've made a man out of me
Waltzing in a supermarket
Waltzing in a supermarket
Waltzing in a supermarket
Waltzing in a supermarket
. . .
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