And it starts, sometime around midnight.
Or at least that’s when you lose yourself
for a minute or two.
As you stand, under the bar lights.
And the band plays some song
about forgetting yourself for a while.
And the piano’s this melancholy soundtrack to her smile.
And that white dress she’s wearing
you haven’t seen her for a while.

But you know, that she’s watching.
She’s laughing, she’s turning.
She’s holding her tonic like a cross.
The room’s suddenly spinning.
She walks up and asks how you are.
So you can smell her perfume.
You can see her lying naked in your arms.

And so there’s a change, in your emotions.
And all these memories come rushing
like feral waves to your mind.
Of the curl of your bodies,
like two perfect circles entwined.
And you feel hopeless and homeless
and lost in the haze of the wine.

Then she leaves, with someone you don’t know.
But she makes sure you saw her.
She looks right at you and bolts.
As she walks out the door,
your blood boiling
your stomach in ropes.
Oh and when your friends say,
“What is it? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Then you walk, under the streetlights.
And you’re too drunk to notice,
that everyone is staring at you.
You just don’t care what you look like,
the world is falling around you.

You just have to see her.
You just have to see her.
You just have to see her.
You just have to see her.
You just have to see her.
You know that she’ll break you in two.

The Airborne Toxic Event - Sometime around midnight

They say that Richard Cory owns one half of this whole town,
With political connections to spread his wealth around.
Born into society, a banker's only child,
He had everything a man could want: power, grace, and style.

But I work in his factory
And I curse the life I'm living
And I curse my poverty
And I wish that I could be,
Oh, I wish that I could be,
Oh, I wish that I could be
Richard Cory.

The papers print his picture almost everywhere he goes:
Richard Cory at the opera, Richard Cory at a show.
And the rumor of his parties and the orgies on his yacht!
Oh, he surely must be happy with everything he's got.

But I work in his factory
And I curse the life I'm living
And I curse my poverty
And I wish that I could be,
Oh, I wish that I could be,
Oh, I wish that I could be
Richard Cory.

He freely gave to charity, he had the common touch,
And they were grateful for his patronage and thanked him very much,
So my mind was filled with wonder when the evening headlines read:
"Richard Cory went home last night and put a bullet through his head."

But I work in his factory
And I curse the life I'm living
And I curse my poverty
And I wish that I could be,
Oh, I wish that I could be,
Oh, I wish that I could be
Richard Cory.

Richard Cory - Simon and Garfunkel

I'll take a quiet life
a handshake and Carbon monoxide

They're justified, and they're ancient
And they drive an ice cream van

Beautiful.

"How can you lie there and think of England
When you dont even know whose in the team"

Greetings To The New Brunette Billy Bragg

Always been poignant to me, but will take on a whole knew meaning when I sing this at my grandads funeral shortly...

When the farmer comes to town
With his wagon broken down,
The farmer is the man who feeds them all.
If you'll only look and see,
I am sure you will agree,
The farmer is the man who feeds them all.
The farmer is the man
The farmer is the man
Lives on credit till the fall,
Then they take him by the hand,
And they lead him from the land,
And the middleman's the man who gets it all.

When the lawyer hangs around
While the butcher cuts a pound,
The farmer is the man who feeds them all.
And the preacher and the cook
Go a-strolling down the brook,
The farmer is the man who feeds them alt.
The farmer is the man
The farmer is the man
Lives on credit till the fall.
With the interest rate so high,
It's a wonder he don't die;
The banker is the man who gets it all.

When the banker says he's broke,
And the merchant's up in smoke,
The farmer is the man who feeds them all.
It would put them to the test
If the farmer took a rest.
The farmer is the man who feeds them all.
The farmer is the man
The farmer is the man
Lives on credit till the fall,
His clothes are wearing thin,
His condition is a sin;
He's forgot that he's the man who feeds them all.

I don't believe in an interventionist God, but i know Darling that you do

but if i did i would kneel down and ask him, not to intervene when it came to you

Not to touch a hair on your head, leave you as you are

If he felt he had to direct you, then direct you into my arms

Lights out tonight, trouble in the heartland.
Got a head-on collision, smashin in my guts man.
Im caught in a crossfire that I don't understand.
But there's one thing I know for sure girl:
I don't give a damn for the same old played out scenes
I don't give a damn for just the in-betweens.
Honey I want the heart, I want the soul, I want control right now.
You better listen to me baby:
Talk about a dream; try to make it real.
You wake up in the night with a fear so real.
You spend your life waiting for a moment that just don't come.
Well don't waste your time waiting

Badlands you gotta live it every day
Let the broken hearts stand
As the price youve gotta pay
Well keep pushin till it's understood
And these badlands start treating us good

Workin in the field till you get your back burned
Workin `neath the wheels till you get your facts learned.
Baby I got my facts learned real good right now.
You better get it straight darling:
Poor men wanna be rich, rich men wanna be kings,
And a king aint satisfied till he rules everything.
I wanna go out tonight, I wanna find out what I got.
Now I believe in the love that you gave me.
I believe in the faith that could save me.
I believe in the hope and I pray that some day it
Will raise me above these

Badlands...

For the ones who had a notion, a notion deep inside
That it aint no sin to be glad you're alive.
I wanna find one face that aint looking through me
I wanna find one place, I wanna spit in the face of these

Badlands...

Bruce Springsteen - Badlands

All you trekkies and TV addicts
Don't mean to diss
Don't mean to bring static
All you klingons in your (expletive deleted) house
Grab your backstreet friend and get loud