1. |
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This is no place to hide your lights.
This is no place to hide.
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2. |
Bring me back a pyramid
01:15
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Some say that travel
Is like an escape
Escape from your own self
Escape from your own place
A way for to find
Another type of you
Kang Kang burru!
Chin Chin Noru!
Run Run Run
Kang Kang burru!
Chin Chin Noru!
Run Run Run
So kiss the Blarney Stone for me
And if you get the chance
Give my dearest love ‘Oui Oui’
To the President of France
Bring me back a Pyramid
Or else a Spanish comb
And don’t forget that I’m all set
To welcome you back home
And don’t forget that I’m all set
To well come you back home
Kang Kang burru!
Chin Chin Noru!
Run Run Run
Kang Kang burru!
Chin Chin Noru!
Run Run Run
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3. |
A place called Winter
04:26
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I’m meant to fit right in
To a box not made for my skin
Small town, small town
Forever waiting for life to begin
Life starts when you’re very young
Things we recall and where we come from
Make us who we become
What we run to and from what we run
Sail away to escape this town
Become another type of man
Dark hides the love and light
I still want to change this ground
Hide me, hide me
Life’s not the same when you’re not around
And I miss you, I miss you, I miss you, I miss you, I miss you, I love you, I hate you, I miss you, I love you, I hate you, I miss you.
And I’m scared of you.
You think you lost everything you’ve ever had
Left with a breath and a fighting chance.
To carry on, to carry on
Always hoping to make a new start
To carry on, To carry on
I love you, I hate you, I miss you...
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4. |
Held by strangers
02:52
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A hollow type of conversation
Elevated above the situation
Sitting In a cool café
A place made fake
By our presence
But my persistence to see through the
Opaque
Pictures portrayed, I take the unlit way
Trying to escape
The cliché
A sad man stands
Selling things that are
Not in demand
And strangers pass
Cameras in hands
Well greased to, ease through
And where am I
And why am I here
And try as I might, well I can’t see through
Must I always
Hold this view
Standing alone in crowd
I take a photo of how
The sun looks, now my home land changed
By the perspective
I must now take
Standing alone In a strange land
Held by strangers hands
My logic grows loose like a dream
The places that they take me
Unconnected to these scenes
And they play, in front of me
Shapes change, my memory
Is stained, reality
Stays ingrained, with their shape
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5. |
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I read a book about motorcycle stories
In my room, in my room, in my room
Without exception they are
Quite amazing journeys
I’ll finish it soon, I’ll finish soon,
I’ll finish it soon
A sense of freedom
And them defining countries
On their way, on their way, on their way
Making roads that didn’t exist before them
In their wake, in their wake, in their wake
They didn’t know where they
were going, when they started
Oh what a life, what a life, what a life
But I don’t drive, I can’t even afford glasses
So how will I learn to ride, learn to ride?
I get the sense that it was easier in the 50s
Before my time, before my time,
Before my time
Adventure grade insurance
cheaper in the 50s
I’ll bide my time, I’ll bide my time,
Bide my time
At a pension-able age I’ll get my glasses
Before I die, before I die, before I die
I’ll learn to ride a motorcycle in my 60s
Before I drive, before I drive, before I drive
Before I drive, before I drive, before I drive
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6. |
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It’s a miracle that all this docile
Strength waits behind,
One tiny lever for the pressure of my hand
Face and lips, hit by tiny flying bits, bullet like, As we crash into the wind
A cold cry, rushing, screeching past my ears, As the air careers into and either side, of my head, as it breaks, the air,
And my speed snaps
At the feast of road ahead.
My surplus emotion expressed, extravagantly on the tarred blue road ahead of me
And after a long day of restraint,
Soon my bed would be laid down,
But before, I’ll be pulling on my breeches
And walking out that door, to my bike
A couple of kicks, and its first glad
Roar at being alive
There goes that noisy bugger again,
Someone would cry, every time,
And off I’d fly
My surplus emotion expressed extravagantly on the tarred blue road ahead of me
He’s a son of thunder (whoooah)
Lawrence of Arabia...
My surplus, emotion expressed extravagantly On the tarred blue road ahead, of me
Straight, empty and dry,
Perfectly stretched out into the evening light
With the yellow sun on my left,
Our shadow stretching out on the right
On our new road,
Our flight became bird like
He’s a son of thunder (whoooah)
Lawrence of Arabia...
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7. |
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There has not been rain
For two years and a day
The same for everyone
With our spades to the ground
We will do what we can
In the dust, and the dry, and the sun
There’s a place
Where it rains, where it rains, where it rains
Oh how we want to live there
There’s a time to sow
And a time to go
A time to leave this land
We’d have thirst for a beer
If it wasn’t so dear
We’ll get through this hand in hand
There’s a place
Where it rains, where it rains, where it rains
Oh how we want to live there
There’s a well, we are told
Where the water has held
But all is not so clear
They say that past the rim
There’s a deadly pool within
And so we shan’t go near
There’s a place
Where it rains, where it rains, where it rains
We pity the souls who live there
Because the only thing that grows
Is the little white rose
And of that you must beware
There’s a place
Where it rains, where it rains, where it rains
We pity the souls who live there
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8. |
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Oh give me, give me hope, give me hope
God, God he, he gives and he takes away
The dark, the dark it tortures me,
It tortures me
I need, I need to talk to you, talk to you
It rains, it rains
And roses grow
Singing one more step along the road I go
One more step along the road I go
The mad, the madness is pulling me,
Pulling me
The land, green as the wool, it’s unraveling, Unraveling, unraveling, unraveling
It rains, it rains
And roses grow
Singing one more step along the road we go
Down to the well, it’s the well that knows
One more step along the road we go
Down to the well it’s the well who knows
Oh give me, give me a rope, that I can pull
I’m searching, searching for something,
Something to tell me it wasn’t you
It wasn’t me, it wasn’t you, it wasn’t me
Where is our love?
Where is our love?
You can have all of my love
I won’t be needing it
I will never, never stop
Stop believing it
It rains, it rains
And roses grow
Singing one more step along the road we go
Down to the well, it’s the well that knows
One more step along the road we go
Down to the well it’s the well who knows
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9. |
A place uncharted
04:14
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A line In a space
In a place, uncharted
As I look at the face of you
As I make my way
To your boundaries
I realise that if I trace the way I came
Then others might
Do the same
And find you like I did
And find you like, I did
And I could mark the points of interest on your skin so
They would see and I could join them in
A pattern to make
People find each place
Of you I think is worth finding
And as I look at the face of you
I realise no one knows you like I do
So I will make a map,
Of where you start and end
And I will show in line where you rise and fall
And I will point it out in pen,
The parts of you that lend,
Themselves well to visiting
And as I pass my map of you to my friend
Well he gets it and he sees you like I do
Well I guess not quite like I do
Because I’ve marked you with my hand
And I have walked you with my shoes
And I have mapped you with my eye
I have studied every inch of your surface and
I know every undulation
And as I look, at the face of you
I realise no one knows you like I do
But perhaps
My little map
Will give them a clue
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10. |
Twinkle Park
01:52
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Before it gets dark
There’s a game that we could play
Let’s go to twinkle park
It’s a hop and jump away
You’ve got to get around the park
It’s a circular route from the end to the start
You cant walk, because that’s no fun
You’ve got to get around, on just one (leg)
If you land on two
I might just be better than you
Watch me as I hop through
Twinkle Park
Twinkle Park
So we hop very high
You score less the more try
A little like golf, but here you fly!
In Twinkle Park
“I got 44”
“Well I guess you need to practice more,
Cos I got 38, a bit better than you”
“But not that great, because I once got 17”
“Well I heard that you were cheating”
We’d better head back to the start,
In Twinkle park
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The Bookshop Band Bath, UK
The Bookshop Band write songs inspired by books and play them in bookshops. They started as a collaboration between a group of musicians in Bath and their local independent bookshop, Mr B's Emporium. Now they are about to go on tour, sponsored by Vintage Books and Independent Booksellers Week, around other bookshops and lit fests. Catch them if you can. Details at www.thebookshopband.co.uk ... more
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