Perfection R.I.P.

© pagan wanderer lu 2007

The Gentlemen’s Game

Matthew is bleeding from his mouth
The knuckles of the hands he shook
They knocked him down
The Asylum Seekers had a shit goalkeeper
And the Young Offenders had some crap defenders
Well who won the match?
You know…. I can’t remember

Working as a volunteer referee
It’s not your job to keep the peace
You’d think asylum seekers would be peaceful people
And that young offenders would have to keep their temper
Well who started the fight?
You know…. I can’t remember

What you fucking Raqi’s doing in our country anyway?
Fuck you, motherfucker. We can kick your asses any day
Take out your aggression on the pitch
This is a gentleman’s game

We all love to live vicariously
Through the sporting achievements of our country
But if an asylum seeker could be England keeper
Then our team winning would just lose all meaning
And a kick in the mouth
Well that could just be the beginning…..

We are all volunteers
(we do what we want when we want to)
Even the ones who
Don’t really live here

Matthew is bleeding from his mouth
The knuckles of the hands he shook
They knocked him down

Sell Space

Are you listening to this song?
Then so are your customers
And there’s room for sale in the final verse
Five hundred pounds a word

This song’s the ideal vehicle
To get your message out
To the 18-30 ‘indietronica’ fan demographic

“PWL Shit Cloths” are the greatest cloths in the world
They’re tough on stains and spillages
And they’ll get you girls

Perfection or a Simple Life

And if they find those bodies buried under your immaculate lawn
Not from this life, the one before
Ah ah ah…
Would that then prove perfection was never really within your grasp?
Another finger in the dam?
Ah ah ah…

If they could regress you back to
Some other life you’ve lived through
Does that suggest you’ve no control
Ah ah ah…

Life is a ladder it’s true
But all the rungs are sawn through
By errors in the life before
Ah ah ah…

A simple life I look both ways before I step on anyone’s toes
But still they kick me when I’m down
Ah ah ah…
The only place perfection’s found is between people making love
That’s why it’s all but not allowed
Ah ah ah…

Until they work out how to charge you
For stuff that you get up to
They’ll have to try to sell you more
Ah ah ah…

There were no bodies hidden
When you dug up the garden
Maybe they were never there at all?
Ah ah ah…

Norman Kember

Put your faith in the hands of a bricklayer
Use your faith, train Saddam as a bricklayer

Tree of Knowledge

Popplewell, Tillotson, Leverhulme, Gandalf

Teacher! Teacher! Spray the foam on the…
Spray the foam on the boy’s pectoral

The Tree of Knowledge grows from barren ground here
The apples fall from the trees in the distance
Read the names on the corridors of power
Engorged phalluses with rich parents

Thick, strong planks in the walls of a boys’ club
Our education there is none finer
The hierarchy of sin is implicit
Heaven forfend you go near a vagina

My school reunion is not gonna happen
The Tree of Knowledge can fuck my apples
I took a bite now I can’t stay happy
The Tree of Knowledge can fuck my apples

Pray yourself to the top of the ladder
Only the chosen return to the garden
Make racist jokes until the asian kids join in
Christians like you are why God invented lions

These are the best days of our lives…
Well you ruined mine

The Black Death

England, you don’t believe in anything
That’s why every high street in the country looks the same
But I’d rather build a mosque than any more retail parks
The Trafford Centre scares me more than riding London trains

We’re trapped inside the storm from all the butterflies
Of every single little thing we can’t be arsed to do
And it’s really easy just to blame The Government
But there’s really not a lot of them and there’s millions of you

And if people could learn not to keep throwing their own faeces in the street
During the Black Death
Maybe we can learn to throw out things in different bins
And if God made the world and God made people and people make a mess until
There’s no people left
Will the world still spin
With no one left to worship him?
And Hey kids! If you just believe in something….
You win a iPod

England, you don’t believe in anything
That’s why every teacher in the country looks depressed
We spawn children indifferent to achievement
All the while proclaiming how their country is the best

Is it nature or nurture or just apathy
That’s causing all the bus shelters to shatter overnight?
We’re forgetting the lessons from our History
That downfall follows empire like fight follows fight

000s & 111s

I’m a kid at a bus stop going to the municipal pool to meet my friends
We are gonna have a good time good time
Head full of summer and a pocket full of change

But when I get there every single window’s tished in
Soon there’ll be nothing left to do in this town
So we’ll all stay home and we’ll all play with zeroes and ones….

Zeroes and ones, zeroes and ones….

I’m a second generation bus stop kid
Living with the legacy of all the buildings that my parents kicked in
Football field full of trees, youth club volunteers have quit

Now we hang around the shopping center
We buy cool clothes so we can look at each other
Headphones on so we can’t talk to each other
Head full of nothing and a pocket full of zeroes and ones….

Zeroes and ones, zeroes and ones….

Repetition 4 (Simple Life)

Do I seek a simple life?
Or is there life enough in these chords for two?
Do I seek a simple life?
Or is there life in these chords for me and lu….?
This brand new dance ain’t so easy to do

It’s easy to say ‘create if you want to’
There aren’t enough hours in the day to create it all
We all seek a simple life
Some will dance and some will fight
Learn to dream with depression
Boil life’s questions down until they become
Endless usable fragments of….
Can music ever replace God?

And if we’re all just machines
For replicating genes
Then what the hell can any of this mean?

I wish I was on medication
So I had something to stop taking
And I feel deep inside
There is nothing deep inside
Just a black space behind my eyes
And I sleep in her hands
And my conscience flows like sand
Through the pinch in the glass of my life

I am just machine
(we’re all just machines)

We are all machines for dancing

And when I lose my faith in song
Your love’s what keeps me strong

Eskomolto (for antonio)

Charlie and me
we saw you supporting Leaves
Andy! Where've you been?
You say you've been busy
I thought you moved to another city...

Andy, tell me
What did you think of my cd?
Tell me the truth
did you even get to track 2?
We got out first review
"'Demo' - Eskomolto
What's with the interminable mock-latino vocals?"

You know we've come from Mexico
All the way to Manchester
We thought music was better here

Andy, where've you been?
You say you've been busy
I thought you moved to another city...

All lyrics written by Andy Regan
©2006-2007