The Real Damage I woke up on a sofa in an unfamiliar house, surrounded by sleeping folks I didn't know. On failing to find my friends, I decided it was clearly time to go. So I made my way out of the door as quietly as I could - there was no one there I knew to say goodbye, Squinting in the sadly sobering sunshine of the Sunday morning light. I started the night with all my friends and I ended up alone. I started out so happy now I'm hungover and down. It was about then that I realized I was half-way through the best years of my life. I scanned the local landmarks, trying to find out where I was, and maybe even find a bus back home, Longing for a shower, and for clean sheets, and a charger for my phone. Suddenly it hit me - I got paid this Friday last, and so I rifled through my pockets for some change. But all I found was a packet of broken cigarettes and a sinking sense of shame. I had to ask myself: Is is really worth it? Is any of this worth it? Well the whole thing's far from perfect, But I've yet to figure out a better way to spend my time. Too many suits and dirty looks made me rack my brains - the real damage started to sink in. It'd been quite a heavy weekend and I could just about remember where I'd been. Well I started the night with all my friends and I ended up alone, I started out so happy now I'm hungover and down. I stood on a street corner and I felt a little sick. It was about then that I realized I was halfway through the first day of the week. Nashville Tennessee From the heart of the Southern Downs, to the North-East London reservoirs, From the start, the land scaped my sound, before I'd ever been to America. And if I knew anybody who played pedal steel guitar, I'd get them in my band and then my band would get real far, But I was raised in middle England, and not in Nashville Tennessee, And the only person in my band is me. A simple scale on an old guitar, and a punk rock sense of honesty. I cannot fail, I've got this far with no knowledge of mid-west geography. And if I knew anywhere where I could drive in a straight line For hours in the desert, I'd drive for hours at a time. But I was raised in middle England, not in Nashville Tennessee, And the only person in this car is me. And yes I'm in four-four time, and yes I use cheap cheap rhymes, But I try to make a sound my own. I know I don't break new ground, many have travelled this sound, But I try to make it sound like home. Well I've been to Texas state, I didn't think it was that fucking great, And Nebraska is just a bunch of songs, Holloway and Hampshire where I belong. And I don't know anybody who plays pedal steel guitar, All the city roads are twisted and I do not own a car. I was raised in middle England, not in Nashville Tennessee, And the only thing I'm offering is me. Thatcher Fucked The Kids Whatever happened to childhood? We're all scared of the kids in our neighboorhood; They're not small, charming and harmless, They're a violent bunch of bastard little shits. And anyone who looks younger than me Makes me check for my wallet, my phone and my keys, And I'm tired of being tired out Always being on the lookout for thieving gits. We're all wondering how we ended up so scared; We spent ten long years teaching our kids not to care And that "there's no such thing as society" anyway, And all the rich folks act surprised When all sense of community dies, But you just closed your eyes to the other sidev Of all the things that she did. Thatcher fucked the kids. And it seems a little bit rich to me, The way the rich only ever talk of charity In times like the seventies, the broken down economy Meant even the upper tier was needing some help. But as soon as things look brighter, Yeah the grin gets wider and the grip gets tighter, And for every teenage tracksuit mugger There's a guy in a suit who wouldn't lift a finger for anybody else. You've got a generation raised on the welfare state, Enjoyed all its benefits and did just great, But as soon as they were settled as the richest of the rich, They kicked away the ladder, told the rest of us that life's a bitch. And it's no surprise that all the fuck-ups Didn't show up until the kids had grown up. But when no one ever smiles or ever helps a stranger, Is it any fucking wonder our society's in danger of collapse? So all the kids are bastards, But don't blame them, yeah, they learn by example. Blame the folks who sold the future for the highest bid: That's right, Thatcher fucked the kids. This Town Ain't Big Enough For The One Of Me A free house, a sound-system and a fridge full of beer; I've known how this story ends for a good few years. The night lays out before my eyes, there's no new faces, no surprises. This town is growing old with me, so I'm making a move. Everybody round here's been out with everybody else, Which makes talking to girls hazardous to my health. They've been in this genepool so long they've got wrinkled toes; I don't want all her exes to be people I know. There's millions more fish in the sea, so I'm making a move. I'm bored of this town, bored of this scene, bored of these people, yeah. I'm an expert at pretending that everything is OK, But I'm just a kid and it seems as if I've signed my life away. I need to get out and see what the rest of the world is about. This toen ain't big enough for the one of me, I'm making a move. Every guy with long hair round here is a star, Accorinding to his girlfriend and the way that he holds his guitar. If anyone gets out they stick in the knife, I don't want to get stuck here for the rest of my life. I'm sick of these fuckers, I'm moving on. I still want to be buried here, just like I said, but I'd prefer it if you'd wait until I'm actually dead. It's easy to get caught inside a town that seems to have a hive-mind, But I'm packing up and moving on, When I move out from my parents' house I'm gone, yeah fuck you guys I'm gone. This town ain't big enough for the one of me, So why don't you get from in front of me? We're all going to move to london anyway, so I'll see you in town. Casanova Lament I check that I've got all my things before I leave the house, Because when I'm gone I'm never coming back. I'm not being melodramatic, it's just I neither have your number or a key. An evening spent pretending that we're just becoming friends, Or this goes any further than going back; I'm not being pessimistic, it's just you and I were never meant to be. It isn't love, but every time I kind of wish it was. I've picked up this silly habit in the last few years of going out In the evening with my friends into the town, Of packing a spare T-shirt in my bag in case I do not make it home. It's pathetic and I know it, but the truth is there've been mornings I've proved prudent taking toothpaste to the pub. But that's precious little comfort against the knowledge of the person I've become. It isn't love, but every time I kind of wish it was, And I can see that in your eyes you wish it was, But every time I leave you just because It isn't love. I Really Don't Care What You Did On Your Gap Year We were only supposed to go out for the night, But it's been a few hours now since it got light - We're a mess, and the worst part is we couldn't care less. There's water in the ash-tray and ash in the sink, The carpet's mostly soaking, but there's nothing to drink - We're a state, and we're starting to regret staying awake. And I'll pay for my sins when I get paid, I'll stop talking to girls when I get laid. I should have gone home when I could, but I stayed. But then I never was the clever one. We were only supposed to go out for the night, I did my best to go home but in the end I lost the fight with myself - To be honest I was hoping I'd go home with someone else. And right about now I should be starting my day, But instead I am sat here downing the dregs of yesterday, All the while trying to prop up both ends of my smile. And I'll pay for my sins when I get paid, I'll stop talking to girls when I get laid. I should have gone home when I could, but I stayed. But then I never was the clever one, But always the one to not see that I'm done and I need to go home and get to sleep, Always the last to see the moment has passed and I need to admit my defeat. And I'm lonely - there, I said it. I'm lonely, but it's hard to admit it When everbody thinks that you're fine all the time and you're not. So we were only supposed to go out for the night... But who am I kidding? Try as I might I can't stop Until I've squeezed out every last drop. And I'll pay for my sins when I get paid But I don't have a penny to my name. I'll stop talking to girls when I get laid But I haven't had a shower for days. I should've gone home when I could but I stayed, And so I stay up alone, And set off on my own To the station where I catch the first train. Sea Legs Moving, keep moving, the tour never stops. In the light of petrol stations and cheap corner shops I have finally figured a list of the things that I've got, And the things that I'm not. I need you, I need you, I need you to care, When I'm moving it's soothing to know that you're there, And that when I get home I can breathe you like heady fresh air, For as long as I dare. Honey I'm sorry, but I've got my sea legs again. If I stand on dry land for a minute, I feel sick and then I have to start moving again. From Glasgow to Moscow, from London to Lille, Sat on the platform or next to the wheel, I haven't got space on this postcard to say how I feel, But that was the deal. I miss you, I miss you, but I don't ask your help. When I'm out on the road I look out for myself; I look after my guitar, my clothes and my wallet, my health, And nothing else. You're on my phone again, well, What do you want me to say, When I'm this far away? And you don't know where I am, well, You're not the only one. I am lost and I'm gone away (Oh Darling Thou Pluckest Me Out) And I don't even know where you are (Oh Darling Thou Pluckest Me Out) And I don't even know who you are anymore. Back To Sleep Slumber-blind I speak my mind When I'm out cold (or so I'm told) And so I'm scared to rest my head in company. You're not scared of words unsaid, You close your eyes, say your goodbyes And so I'm left to watch you drift away from me So peacefully. And I'm just looking for the person Who will smile at all my questions, Who will tell me I'm just tired, and then send me Back to sleep. You stole the covers in the night, You turned away, turned out the light, But it's OK because I'm already miles away. Sunshine State I remember the day - the day when I had to take you to the airport And put you on a plane, and so you left me. Left me alone on an empty tube train, deep under the ground, While you were bathed in sunlight, high above the clouds. I needed you here to be my sunshine in London town. California's had more than its fair share. You left me to these small skies, and to rain-soaked concrete, To Morrissey and Robert Smith and complicated streets I know, On which you lost your patience and your way, The way you always did on steel grey rainy days. I needed you here to be my sunshine in London town. California's had more than its fair share Of beating summer sun and shining seas, But it doesn't have a shred of honesty. I know the truth - yeah, Neil Young and Joni Mitchell were Canadians. I guess that makes sense - they had their fill and then they moved away again. You're not alone, we all sometimes use words that we don't understand. Your "love" was only just skin deep and in the end it gave me cancer. You might have been my sunshine, but I'd rather have a rainy day. California gets just what it deserves. Heartless Bastard Motherfucker Well I lie I cheat and I steal, And I don't give two shits about the way that you feel. I barely know who you are, But I'll break your heart and then I'll sleep in your car. I'm not dying inside, I'm dead. Too many people have fucked with my head, And now I'm out for revenge. I'm not the only one who regrets the way they act, But I seem to be the only one who's honest with the facts, And I'm sick to death of always being the sucker. I'm a heartless bastard motherfucker. Well you're a prize specimin - I shouldn't pick you up, I don't know where you've been. You invite me back to your place, And you feed me drinks to get me out of my face. You never own up to what you did - You fuck like an adult and you cry like a kid, And then you tell your friends I took the piss. Just for a second here with a straight face I am sick of the sinners Always making out they're saints. You know it seems to me that the ones to watch are the ones with their hearts on their sleeves - The make-up doth protest too much. So come on everybody, come on, Don't make me regret ever writing this song - I need every motherfucker to sing along. Hold Your Tongue You've been pretty since the day that you were born So the roots of your beautiful hair Drew all the water that your body could hold So when your soul needed water, no water was there. You shed words like so much dead skin They gather up like dust against walls They kick up when someone comes in So when they're looking for something they find nothing at all. Hold your goddamn tongue You forget yourself. How could I be the one If you're wrapped round someone else? And I really don't know which feels worse To be a fool or be with a liar. I just know that heart once soaked and cursed Is that much harder to set on fire. And I won't let this die Until I've seen you cry A single tear to show There's water in your soul. Front Crawl If I was to walk from where I am To where you are right now I'd have to cross eight borders and three seas. But that might show you what you mean to me. And if I was to make this journey long I'd have to learn to swim Much better than my doggy-paddle way. But then you might believe me when I say The time will come when you and I Are not so far away And I won't be singing this song on that day. I will set out for your island home When my front crawl's up to scratch And when I've written my arrival song. I'm working on it now, it's almost done.