The Omega Point EP

© pagan wanderer lu 2008

2.0///The Bridge of Sighs

Startup chimes, cross the Rio de Palazzo
Boats go by, but Iím looking through the wrong window
Sentenced to life, I can stop anytime I want to
But Iíll press F5 just one more timeÖ

I am friends with everyone youíre friends with on the internet
I canít believe weíve never even met!

Two-point oh Ė The Bridge of Sighs
I canít remember what happened to my life
The sun is shining but only offline
The bridge of sighs

Logic Lane, weíre all lonesome mathematicians
Our deadly sins, gluttons gorged on information
Everyone knows everything stroke believes everything theyíre told
two-point-oh the bridge of sighs

And if life is just a simulation
happening at the end of time
compiled from quantum information
from every single beam of light
that ever bounced of everything
converging on a point of infinitely shrinking size
then heavenís just a bridge of sighs

Come shake my hand, you sinister genii!!

Where to begin? Mistakes left in
Your lies and face cover every space
My eyes they hurt from those colours
that you arrange
to echo in my eyes when I look away

Do you really know what I want better than I do?
I know youíve got to make me feel safe
and feel like I choose the things I get from you.
The pavement cracks under my shoes
have started making sense
gonna teach everybody to sell in self-defense

Yes Iíll write your jingles and Iíll write them on demand
but the least that you could do is shake my hand
Iím not a guru like you it gets lonely in my studio
would it kill you just to come and say hello?
This latest brand of melons donít inspire me like the last
Oh I fear my creativity has passed!
I spend ages with blank pages for a seven second tune
That will stick in peopleís heads if there is room
Yes Iíll write your jingles and Iíll write them on demand but the least that you could doÖ
Is come shake my hand

Come shake my hand
or write your own fucking song
Youíve been complacent and secret and distant
for far too long
Come shake my hand
(unintelligible)
Thereís too many people relying on geniuses to tell the truth

And if youíre such a fucking genius why do you sell, sell, sell?
And if youíre such a fucking genius why do you sell, sell, sell?
And if youíre such a fucking genius why do you sell, sell, sell
your fucking brand?
Come shake my hand

Billy

Iíve been keeping a secret
When I go out to work
Iíve been hiding in the park
Iím too ashamed now
to stand in front of you
A manís gotta do what a manís gotta do

I wish that I could give you all the things you wanted
Fill my crippled hand with money
But I canít work
So Iíve been hiding in the park

I was a bricklayer, I was a breadwinner
I kept my children fed, I could perform in bed
I stuck my hand down in the machineís mouth
I got my tendons cut now Iím no use to anyone
So Iíve been hiding in the park

So itís time to make it different Iíve got me a plan
Me and a gun and a securicor van
And Iím not just gonna be another face in the crowd
Me and a gun are gonna make my girl proud
Iíll say I checked my lucky numbers and had a big win
And my kidsíll never have to go hungry again
And Iíll buy diamond ring and Iíll take you down the aisle
And Iíd do it all again just to see you smile

Iíve done my time now
A free man again
I walk the streets and I sleep in the rain
But I keep my head high
the money that I get
from my crippled hand keeps my children fed

Ladies and gentlemen of the jury please understand
I was not born with a weapon in my hand
and though you may think of me as half a man
Still I have what you do not haveÖ

And if I wanna draw a swoosh on my cap then I can
Me and a gun and a securicor van
(Iíve been hiding in the park)

The ending makes what came before a story

Ignoring the warnings on cigarette packets
As if time goes in cycles or forward then back its
like joy will come first and then always come sorrow
and you could get hit by the future tomorrow
Your whole life has been building up to today
The orchestra swells the camera pans away
to reveal the climaxes and ephiphanies
like the first ones you saw and all the ones in between

And we all feel the urge to see patterns emerge
but in truth what we're looking for is
the ending which makes what came before a story
and if patterns emerge and we get what we deserve
what message are we sending?
If history makes what's happening now an ending?

The good always triumph cos they write the history
and if any mouths open and dare contradict we
kill all non-believers and dig them mass graves
then talk in terms of the lives that we've saved by denying a moment of uncertainty
and implying there's progress in infallibility
as if every step forward comes like penicillin
and nothing is random we're all quite unwilling

to admit that you can see patterns in patches of sand
if you're looking for it
it's the ending that makes what came before a story
and if patterns emerge and we get what we deserve
what message are we sending?
If history makes what's happening now an ending?

Brighton Pier

I came home late, wet from the sea
I thought that you would be waiting up for me
I'd left my phone, left it behind
So you couldn't call me, but you hadn't tried
There was no more catharsis
punching the walls of our flat
So I went for a walk
I thought I might get stabbed
I sat on a bench for an hour on my own
But all the potential muggers just said
"Hello, you alright mate?"

And the lights on Brighton Pier go out
At the flick of a switch
And I wondered if my own lights would
Go out that quick
And the afterglows, the lights' echoes
Left a ghost-pier in my eyes
And in the end I couldn't do it
So I did go home that night
And to this day I've really no idea why

Under the stone-tree on the Old Steine
I found a hidden piece of art
And therefore heart in that city
Amongst her colours
With which she tempted me there to make my name
How I love her, like a moth loves a flame

And the lights on Brighton Pier go out
At the flick of a switch
And I wondered if my own lights would
Go out that quick
And the afterglows, the lights' echoes
Left a ghost-pier in my eyes
And I still don't know how I got home that night

But the sadness that I felt was almost beautiful
As if the night itself had planned it out for me
And I must've been walked home by the ghost of brighton pier
and that's the only reason I'm still here

--------------------

All lyrics written by Andy Regan
©2008