The Independent Scrutineer

copyright pagan wanderer lu 2006

The Memorial Hall

Left to your own devices
You will forget the Memorial Hall
See in the faded newsprint
Thumbs up from the Pals
as they wave us goodbye
I've got a girl back home
I wrote her a letter
I don't suppose I'll get a reply
I only hope she'll remember my name

Poppies we buy to remember
They sell to forget in Afghnistan
With our faith in the hands of bricklayers
We know we can sleep safe inside its walls
And as I dance in your hands tonight
and these walls shake with our dancing inside
We understand that our tribute's alright
Except that there will be more

Now we remember the disco
They're holding tonight at the Memorial Hall
I hope to meet eyes with your sister
As she stands like a flower by a plaque on the wall
But the alcohol kicks in and somehow instead
the words on the plaque just take over my head
I think I shouldn't be dancing with so many dead
But I'm wrong

If there's a point to the fighting
any point at all
It's so we can dance in the Memorial Hall

And if drunkenness leads us to conflict
Supporting the Troops versus Not in my Name
Someone gets bored change the subject
Before I explain how they can be the same
If we don't get revenge then the Bad Guys have won
If the winners aren't good guys that's what they become
The only point in life is just to have fun
But you're wrong

If there's a point to the fighting
any point at all
It's so we can dance in the Memorial Hall

Repetition 2

There's a brand new dance and it's easy to do
if everyone has empathy they'll share my point of view
and if everyone has empathy then nothing will be cool
and there will be no difference between a disco and a school
Just empty repetition
the cult of terrorism
the strength of your convictions
the Big Brother eviction

Death to Repetition of this long hot summer
dreaming of an end to all this perfect weather
you look as if there's always something on yr mind
i'm sorry Mr Regan but yr card has been declined

Or maybe you would rather be a terrorist as well?
The gulf between ideas is the cave in which they dwell
and if right & wrong are real then it's easier to kill
and you'd think that that would maybe be a hard idea deal to sell
but it's done by repetition
that old time religion
the day of the decision
I bet I will be thinking...

Death to Repetition of this long hot summer
dreaming of an end to all this perfect weather
you look as if there's always something on yr mind
i'm sorry Mr Regan but yr card has been declined

Our New Hospital Sucks

Our new hospital sucks
The contractors are cooking the books
Though the old one was all falling down
At least it was in the center of town
This oneís architecturally innovative
The designers cost them five million quid
Though I canít deny itís a lovely faÁade
Thereís not enough space in the fucking car park

And you can paint a funny mural on the childrenís ward
But thereís not as many beds as there were before
And you can have a heart attack and drop on your kitchen floor
And theyíll have to drive you further than they would have before
And the nurses have new uniforms in corporate colours
But they're working longer hours than they would before
And they built it PFI so it cost us more
And thereís not as many beds as there were before.

Our new hospital sucks
And itís even worse than it looks
Cos they havenít recouped the costs yet
So the local councilís in debt
To an unaccountable consortium
Who put the profits before the patients
And thereís documents weíre not allowed to see
Cos of commercial confidentiality

And you can paint a funny mural on the childrenís ward
But thereís not as many beds as there were before
And you can have a heart attack and drop on your kitchen floor
And theyíll have to drive you further than they would have before
And the nurses have new uniforms in corporate colours
But they're working longer hours than they would before
And they built it PFI so it cost us more
And thereís not as many beds as there were before.
so it sucks

Repetition 1

There's a brand new dance and it's easy to do
endless repetition of what's bothering you
can't fight the situation but the feeling you choose
and no-one in their right mind would do what you do

wah wah ooh

And if you get that letter
will it make you feel better?
deus ex machina
when you're under the weather...

When you die what goes through your mind?
What distractions do you hope to find
as you pass through to the other side
of that blinding white light...?

will they come in through the window? should I lock my door?
should I stay in and go foetal on the kitchen floor?
is it that bass beat at a party or the ticking of clocks?
should I get a new haircut? should I change all the locks?

wah wah ooh

and if he doesn't get his letters
will it make you feel better?
deus ex machina
when you're under the weather

(note: the version on the EP repeats the above chorus but the 'real' lyrics - as heard on the BBC session - are as follows)
when you die who will remember you?
when you did who cares what you've been through?
what distractions do you hope to find
on the other side of that blinding white light

___________

Not every suicide makes the news
or wants to
these days
Sad architecture looms in your eyes
and all that remains is a gap in the railings...

I saw your little sister
she said she drew this picture
of houses in the distance
be brave...

Knight -> King 4

Tomorrow I die like a King
and my victories will not mean a thing
my empire is lost
Iíll be hung on a cross
and my subjects forget how to sing.

I once was an angry young man
born with a gun in my hand
I wasted two bullets
on vengeful rhetoric
and quietly changed my demands

Tonight I make love like a King
for tomorrow I donít mean a thing
in the arms of a man
how he moves in my hand
and he dies without any warning

we die

Tomorrow I die like a King
and my victories will not mean a thing
my empire is lost
Iíll be hung on a cross
and my subjects forget how to sing.

I once was an angry young man
to your door I would nail my demands
I loved you free market
but Iíve chosen darkness
and the feel of a sword in my hand

Tomorrow I die like a King
And my statue will not mean a thing
cos all that remains
is the plaque with my name
and another sandstorm gathering

we die

My spires and fires and latent desires
I retire and expire
Iím greatly admired
though ire and fire have broke me entirely now