Green Tea
[These are just your standard,
everyday nonsense lyrics, I'm afraid to say although there was some influence
by a street called Devonshire. But they DO make it on onomatopoeia anyway.
The most interesting thing
about them are the 'samples' from that Grandmaster Flash song at the end.
The music is quite fast
and active, driven by a running bass line that stomps down hard at the
chorus.]
(Backup vocals by Rae Byrom)
Like hump the city pumps for
the runaway
New stuff, pretty muffs it’s
the runaway
Sit down, wait around for the
comin’ day
All packed, get that snack
for the runaway
Hey, hey, hey
(Please don’t say it) We’re
not silly wake only once
Green tea, drinkin’ three with
the runaway
Hang loose like a goose it’s
a runaway
Old crow : missive grows now
the runaway
Hey, hey, hey
We’re not silly wake only once
(for the runaway)
All packed, get that snack
for the runaway
Hey, hey, hey
We’re not silly wake only once
(for the runaway)
(Please don’t say it) We’re
not silly wake only once
See that walk, no-one’s fault
Feel the earth like bitten
cork
Oh, I wanna move it
You just close that gate and
it’s never too late
You mouth that kiss and ya
see the strain
But I wanna move it
Show me where pieces share
Cold and hot, shiver wet
I wanna move it
Leave at once ‘cause we’ve
hit the front
OK (Please don’t say it) We’re
not silly wake only once
For the comin’ day
Hey, hey, hey
We’re not silly wake only once
See that walk, no-one’s fault
Feel the earth like bitten
cork
Oh, I wanna move it
You just close that gate and
it’s never too late
You mouth that kiss and ya
see the strain
But I wanna move it
Show me where pieces share
Cold and hot, shiver wet
I wanna move it
Leave at once ‘cause we’ve
hit the front
“Don’t push me ‘cause I’m close
to the edge
I’m tryin’ not to lose my head”
OK
“It’s like a jungle sometime
it makes me wonder
How I keep from goin’ under…”
Leave at once ‘cause we’ve hit
the front
.
Who’s Gonna Help
Me Now?
(by
Slapp
Happy)
[A most easy song to learn
and expand upon, we also made our version as stupid as possible by the
'Uncle Reamus' / American car confabulation. After the first couple of
verses we decided to turn on the C&W switch and then bring it up on
the 'breakin this poor heart of mine' lyric, where it's quite appropriate.]
(Backup mumbles and so on
by Nivek Thompson)
Who’s gonna help me now?
Who’s gonna help me now?
He left me alone on the aerodrome
Goddamit
Who’s gonna help me now?
Who’s gonna help me now?
He never told me a lie
No, I never told him a lie
He swore he’d be black with
a cadillac
A Chevy
You’re nowhere and never on
time
Breakin’ this poor heart of
mine
I’m down to my very last dime
I’m down to my very last dime
This flight is the start to
the end of my heart
You’re nowhere and never on
time
Breakin’ this poor heart of
mine
Oh you’re breakin’ this poor
heart of mine…
Oh you’re breakin’ it
How you’re breakin’ it
Really breakin’ it…
.
Nights in a Glass
[Possibly the song I'm most
proud of in my whole, small catalogue with a lovely chord progression and
a twisting melody that flies over the top. The overdubbed chorus at the
end always makes my heart warmer. Lyrics about missed opportunities and
getting drunk to stave off the thoughts - how deep.]
(Vocals in the middle verse
by Nivek Thompson)
What’s up I wanna know
The next glass I’ll never go
Fall in and miss again
That’s right see ya friend
What’s up I wanna sing
I can’t move a bloody thing
Lookin’ left or right
But never into sight
It all depends on just what
I know
Seeing the future
What’s up I can’t explain
It’s no use don’t try again
I’ll fall out and miss so much
That’s right see ya, see ya
It all depends on just what
I show
See the future to worry ‘bout,
worry ‘bout
All the hands up and count
me out
All night sit up waiting
I don’t know when I made my
mind up
It should be plain as the glass
I hold
What’s up my mind is tense
The same old stupid mess
I wish but that’s too much
Alright see ya
It all depends on just what
I show
See the future to worry ‘bout,
worry ‘bout
All the hands up and count
me out
All night sit up waiting
I don’t know when I made my
mind up
It should be plain as the glass
I hold
What’s up I can’t explain
It’s no use don’t try again
It all depends on just what
I show
See the future to worry ‘bout,
worry ‘bout
All the hands up and count
me out
All night sit up waiting
I don’t know when I made my
mind up
It should be plain as the glass
I hold…
.
Dogs and Dogs
[One of the first tracks
I wrote in my bedroom post-Wild West. Basically sums up the
original idea I had of massed,
buzzing synths and choral-like vocal harmonies.
The lyrics were one of my
many attempts to explore parts of my relationship with Annette.]
(Lovely tabla playing by
Antoni Rudnicki)
I’m seeing three, last time
I wanted to
Dogs and dogs, only one
That’s one for me
Can’t call out, just singing
Wont ever be meaning
To say that it’s never
Send me a note, this time for
sure again
Dogs and dogs, only one
Next to the coat
Can’t call out, just singing
Wont ever be meaning
To say that it’s never, never,
never again
I’m seeing three, last time
I wanted to
Dogs and dogs, only one
That’s one for me
Can’t call out, just singing
Wont ever be meaning
To say that it’s never, never,
never again
Dogs and dogs, only one
Next to the coat
Can’t call out, just singing
Wont ever be meaning
To say that it’s never, never,
…never again
See one step come
.
Two Unbidden Cups
[An out and out love song
for Annette, partly initiated by the style of the song - drifting, sparse
and delicate. A terrific performance from Patrick just rounds it off.
Released on the "Under the
Southern Cross" compilation of Australian rock.]
I can’t wait another day
To see the face that’s hidden
All at once I miss it, now
the wait
Is that the one unbidden cup
Is that the one unspoken phrase
And then the world starts reeling
once again
All sight, all say
Once I dream I get up and get
away
All I hear are words rock steady
“What’s enough?”
Here she comes
That little face
And the smile that’s wider
See the room gets brighter
Once again
The way she talk
The way she moves
The way her heels are clicking
Scratches on the floor
And now the wait
All sight, all say
Once I dream I get up and get
away
All I hear are words rock steady
“What’s enough?”
Oh…dream a little dream of me…oh…
All sight, all say
Once I dream I get up and get
away
All I hear are words rock steady
“What’s enough?”
Oh all I hear are words not
ready
Wake up – the dream still sits
so leaden
All I hear are words rock steady
“What’s enough?”
I can’t wait another day
To see the face that’s hidden
All at once I miss it, now
the wait
All sight, all say, get away.
.
The Cedar Bench
[I always doubted my commitment
to love but wanted desperately to work out why.]
(Extra vocals by Jill O'Meara
and Cathy)
Sometime kick it
Make up the words
Only sometimes
Wake up the words
Ah, the wasted nights are done
The best is gone
I told you that I can see no
use
And then the words forget (lost)
I told you, no you told me
To sit on a cedar fence is
fun
It seemed worse to see no use
To sit on a fading bench just
once
I told you, no you told me
I hope
I told you, no you told me
against one
I told you, no you told me
I hope
Too much you told me that’s
it’s too much
Once, just once
Sometime kick it
Make up the words
Only sometimes
Wake up the words
Sometime mean it
Make up the words
Only sometimes
Wake up the words
Ah, the wasted nights are done
The best is gone
I told you that I can see no
use
And then the words forget…
.
The Goodbye Song
[The wheels on track rhythm
of the song generated the lyrics with a memory of travelling down to see
Tim Vandenburg late at night. It was obviously used as the last track when
playing live.]
(The noisiness at the end
is the N-Lets)
Aufweidersein, we’re on the
train
Aufweidersein, hooray
Aufweidersein, we’re on the
train
Aufweidersein, hooray
All night sit up wait on the
midnight train
To wave bye-bye
All night sit up wait on the
Wollongong train
To wave bye-bye
So long, farewell
Be good, see ya later
Stay warm
See ya later, Sayonara
Be well, you bet
Fay Wray, ho-ho
See ya later, Sayonara
All night sit up wait on the
Wollongong train
To wave bye-bye
All night sit up wait on the
midnight train
To wave bye-bye
Farewell, go home
Be good, you bet
Fay Wray
See ya later, Sayonara
Keep warm, oh-ho
Get work, I will
See ya later, goodbye
.
Salad Days
[As is plainly obvious later
on, this is a song about Modra Bebris.
Annette and I lived with
her for many, many years.]
Sleep. Oh well, salad days…
Chip in the face again
But only once a week
Come out again to see the eyes
Bloodshot against the cheek
Then it’s the chopping board
Cut out a random seed
There goes the knife to make
the food
That we can surely eat
Watch her look, watch as she
breaths
Call in to see the friend
Stopping the memory
No time to think about the
rest
When she was overseas
Staying the night in bed
Ten days instead of weeks
Come back and listen to the
words
Languages not to read
Watch her look, watch as she
breaths
Sleep. Oh well, salad days…
Chip in the face again
But only once a week
Come out again to see the eyes
Bloodshot against the cheek
Then it’s the chopping board
Cut out a random seed
There goes the knife to make
the food
That we can surely eat
Watch the look, watch as she
breaths
Call in to see the friend
Stopping the memory
No time to think about the
rest
When she was overseas
Staying the night in bed
Ten days instead of weeks
Come back and listen to the
words
Languages not to read
Watch her look, watch as she
breaths
Sleep. Oh well, salad days
all week
Watch her look, watch as she
breaths
Watch her look, watch as she
breaths
Watch her look, watch as she
breaths
Sleep. Oh well, salad days
all week
M O D R A
M O D R A
M O D R A, B E B R I S, Yes
(“Ridin’ along in a push bike
honey
When I noticed you
Ridin’ along in a push bike
honey
Mora Bebris too”)…
.
S S S Single Bed
(by Fox)
[Definitely the most infectious
song we ever played, the clip-clop white
noise slap drove the stupidity
of the rather terrific lyrics home.
The original version was
soft and seductive whilst we played it up the double-entendre for all it
was worth.
Patrick's almost note perfect
take on the crummy guitar solo is quite magnificent]
C-C-C-Come, come inside
I can show me what’s on my
mind
Sh-Sh-Sh-Shoes, take ‘em off
Then I’ll turn my lights down
soft
Oh, but all I’ve got is a s-single
bed
There aint no room for my big
head
Now aint it a shame you missed
the last train
‘Cause all I’ve got is a s-single
bed.
S-s-s-s-single bed, single bed
There aint no room for my fat
head
Single bed, single bed
I got a one solitary, lonesome,
single…
A-buh-buh-buh-buh-ba-doop-bow
Baby don’t you cry, bye-bye
baby, bye-bye…
Oh, but all I’ve got is a s-single
bed
There aint no room for my big
head
Now aint it a shame I missed
the last train
‘Cause all I’ve got is a s-single
bed.
S-s-s-s-single bed, single bed
There aint no room for my fat
head
Single bed, single bed (ah-ha-ha-ha-ha)
I got a one solitary, lonesome,
single…
I got a one solitary, lonesome,
single bed…
.
My Little Laugh Till
It Hurts Babies
[Public Service 11AM with
Nivek, Elizabeth, Peter and myself hooting it up.]
Laughing, non-stop
Afternoon, woke up
Best laugh ever
Hear it break, clatter
Two girls, one (white) boy
Round a desk, office
Closed in, “quiet”
All those eyes
Turn up
Keep it down, whisper
Fill the cup, water
Drink that tea, drink that
tea…
.
C.S.I.R.O.
[Our first real attempt at
writing lyrics together and with the direct intention of making them funny.
The 'fusion' / 'Peugot'
couplet is, if I may say so myself, divine.
For those of you not from
Australia, the CSIRO are the government funded scientific organisation.]
Digging those trenches and reading
those readings
C.S.I.R.O.
They have got findings which
we are not heeding
C.S.I.R.O.
“C” stands for the comets
“S” stands for the sex
“I” stands for the ions
“R” stands for the rest
And the rest sing “Oh, Oh,
O”
Growing those fucias with a-tomic
fusion
C.S.I.R.O.
They don’t look rich but they’re
all driving Peugots
C.S.I.R.O.
Splitting the atom with parts
of an ovum
C.S.I.R.O.(vum)
They’re so dedicated it’s practically
sickening
C.S.I.R.O.
“C” stands for the comets
“S” stands for the sex
“I” stands for the ions
“R” stands for the rest
And the rest sing “Oh, Oh,
O”
Digging those trenches and reading
those readings
They have got findings which
we are not heeding
C…S…I…
“R” stands for the rest
And the rest sing “Oh, Oh,
O”
The world is so big it’s as
tall as my ceiling
Look what my radio telescope’s
hearing
Some of it bad, some is indifferent
The sum of the angles is hypotamusing
“C” stands for the comets
“S” stands for the sex
“I” stands for the ions
“R” stands for the rest
And the rest sing “Oh, Oh,
O”
.
Harry Wong’s Cat
[A try at an Elmer Bernstein
feel, like Breakfast at Tiffanys combined with The Pink Panther.
The lyrics are wonderfully
ridiculous.
Apparently played on radio
2JJ quite a bit for a while although we'd broken up by then -
the story of my musical
life, really.]
[Are my levels OK? Meow!]
Harry Wong’s fat, oh I know
Where Harry is at, it’s his
clothes
Harry Wong’s cat, he must go
To get a hat for his show
Then he went splat, ‘cause
I know
Harry Wong’s fat, here he comes
Watch him go splat, watch it
son
Harry Wong’s vat, full of fun
Listen to dat, it’s a gun
From Harry Wong’s hat shooting
comes
“Hey, what was that”, then
I run
To Harry Wong’s flat, here I
come
Doc he said “stat”, watch it
son
“Why’d he do that to my mum”
I know something is brewing
and it’s not tea.
Harry Wong’s cat in a stew
Maison le chat, fong tong hoo
Harry Wong’s plait, ich been
nicht
By Harry Wong’s cat for a fix
Harry’s upset, see him rage
Cats that use drugs, earn no
wage
They don’t turn blue they turn
beige
I know something is brewing
and it’s not tea.
Oh…
Perculator pop, Perculator pop
Perculator, Perculator
Perculator pop
Something is brewing it’s easy
to see
It not coffee or Bonox or bright
Chinese tea
Leave him to his business
Let him get it done
Yesirree, Harry Wong’s for
me
Oh yeah – he’s quite a guy,
Phil
That Harry, what a guy – he
certainly is
Yea, he sure is
Ya know why I like Harry?
No, Phil, why do you like Harry?
It’s just because – yes, Phil?
He’s fat
.
Come and See The
Silly Work
[The inability of certain,
un-named individuals to use a spanner.
The first time we dropped
out all the music (too confusing) and let the vocals do it almost alone.]
It won’t stop, it won’t help
the leaking, the wasting
The water is gripping and the
weekend spent waking
To turn off and screw back
the china to make it
Start working and gushing is
the reason – don’t break it
It won’t help crying we can
see - It won’t spot
The tap drips, I’d say that
we’re needing a washer
With pliers and wrenches wish
that I’d been a plumber
It won’t help crying we can
see - It won’t spot
Come and see the silly work
Helping fix the cistern is
the last we heard
It hardly seems worth all those
years at my study
When some simple breakdown
can’t be fixed in a hurry
It won’t help crying we can
see - It won’t spot
Come and see the silly work
Helping fix the cistern is
the last we heard
.
Questions Are Singing
[More useless relationship
pondering.]
(Backing vocals by Angela
Plevey and Drosma Bebris)
See the way that handle’s working,
See the way it’s going round
See the way that handle’s working,
See the way it’s going round
I won’t be here, I won’t be
here,
I won’t be here, I won’t be
here
No listen that one month was
clear as mud to me
No wonder we’re thinking “at
last it’s all we need”
I know – when the meaning seems
to just dissapear it’s hard
I won’t be here, nothing to
lose
Staying three years that’s
what I lose
Maybe I want to go
No listen that one month was
clear as mud to me
No wonder we’re thinking “at
last it’s all we need”
I know – when the meaning seems
to just dissapear it’s hard
I know – and the questions
keep on singing a start, I know
I won’t be here, nothing to
lose
Staying three years that’s
what I lose
Maybe I want to go
No listen that one month was
clear as mud to me
No wonder we’re thinking “at
last it’s all we need”
I know – when the meaning seems
to just dissapear it’s hard
I know – and the questions
keep on singing a start, I know
See the way that handle’s working,
See the way it’s going round
See the way that handle’s working,
See the way it’s going round
See the way that handle’s working,
See the way it’s going round
See the way that handle’s working,
See the way it’s going round
No listen, in one month I don’t
think things can change
No wonder the talking keeps
going on again
Let’s listen can we?
.
The Common Word
[Definitely the first song
I wrote in my bedroom studio.
Thinking about how good
it is meeting Annette again even though our love had changed.]
(Lovely Backing vocals by
Sue Manigian)
Sit back one word, hit back
one verb, carries almost…
Happy to see you
But most on the weekend : the
common word
(Common word)
Help fit another
A worse one together, it’s
on a word
That makes it look easy when…
We’ve lost a lot I know…
Ending the week a walk in to
say…
Ending the week a walk
[repeat]
.
A Sweaty Xmas
[Another dual lyricist piece
and mostly Patrick's music. A Christmas cash-in that was never released.]
(Saxophone by Nivek Thompson)
It’s Christmas time again
For aubergines and footy franks
and hens
They’re eating maize at Ables
(eating mayonaisse)
Ken received a cable – best
wishes from the bagle
Drunk beneath the table
You and me and the bumble bee
Sittin’ underneath the cedar
tree
Way up, way up, way up there
Play up, play up, the hive
don’t care
Dive in, drive in ang get you’re
share
That’s all that I need to know
:
Rabbit meat and mistletoe
It’s dinner time again
And everyone’s unhappy except
for rabid Ken
There’s tension at the table
(word had passed around)
The cook was still unable to
manage even staples
P&T and P&G sittin’
underneath the wattle tree
Way up, way up, way up there
Play up, play up, the hive
don’t care
Dive in, drive in ang get you’re
share
That’s all that I need to know
:
Rabbit meat and mistletoe
It’s Christmas time again
For Bobby-Jean and Holly, Frank
and Ken
.
Man From El Paso
[A song about my dad, his
love of the Western genre, fist fights on TV and an afternoon down at the
local.
With great love and affection.]
(Backing vocals by Mary Quinn)
Western Union rides
Close to the weekend the worst
hasn’t come
What he does tonight
Is sit in that armchair or
takes a look outside…
Rolls more cigarettes
Looks at the cat which just
runs away to hide
Laughs again that’s good
But mostly his vision is glued
on what he could
See the cowboy shoot
Feeling the punches and stealing
the loot…
Western Union rides
Just up to the club the worst
still hasn’t come
What he did tonight
Is wait for a weekend when
things are understood
Trying to wait for that weekend
Up too late, missed the rest,
now work it out and…
Western Union rides
Close to the weekend the worst
hasn’t come
Laughs again that’s good
But mostly his vision is glued
on what he could…
Western Union rides
Just up to the club the worst
still hasn’t come
What he did tonight
Is wait for a weekend when
things are understood
Trying to wait for that weekend
Up too late, I missed the rest,
now work it out…
Sit in that armchair or takes
a look outside…
Trying to wait for that weekend
Up too late, missed the rest,
now work it out and…
Up too late, I missed the rest,
now work it out…
Close to the weekend the worst
hasn’t come.
.
Mucky Wishes
[Yet another song exploring
my feeling about my relationship with Annette.
It sounded good when I wrote
it but was made exceptional by the use of some timed
echoes on the backbeat and
other studio effects that Patrick stumbled across.
The ending goes into a little
version of 'Fever' and there's some noise by Wild West on it too.]
Finally get somewhere :
When I need another
Stick so close my hands in
glue
But then you don’t get very
far
Finally left it there
So close, so near, so what’s
clear?
Call that muck a wish
My hope looks like a brand
new dish
The eyes can see they tell
it all
Finally peer to here
Overlick the son
The fingers press inside the
glove
And when you pull them out
you see
That they do appear
Only wish for one
To keep me up to keep me warm
I need a kick to get me up
Finally get somewhere
When I need another
Stick so close my hands in
glue
But then you don’t get very
far
Finally left it there
So close, so near, so what’s
clear?
Call that muck a wish
My hope looks like a brand
new dish
The eyes can see they tell
it all
Finally peer to here…
Overlick the son
The fingers press inside the
glove
And when you pull them out
you see
That they do appear
So close, so near, so what’s
clear?
Only wish for one
To keep me up to keep me warm
I need a kick to get me up
Finally get somewhere
So close, so near, so what’s
clear?
Fever, ahhh, fever, ahhh.
.
Fix Up This Thread
[Almost totally impenetrable lyrics that really are just stream of consciousness.
Patrick never really liked
this one but it's a favourite of mine.]
(Backing vocals by Annette)
Let’s drive past (the wheel)
Let’s drive slow (again)
I’m still hoping (oh what)
Slowly I’m worried (he’s worried)
Let’s fly up (the wing)
Let’s fly home (the birth)
I’m still hoping (oh what)
Slowly I’m worried (he’s worried)
Seven books (the page)
Hopeless looks (a face)
Reading up on (again)
All that is washed out (he’s
worried)
One day fooled (I think)
One day mad (oh no)
Never giving (no sense)
Up on the fast wall (he’s worried)
Let’s drive past (the wheel)
Let’s drive slow (again)
I’m still hoping (oh what)
Slowly I’m worried (he’s worried)
Let’s fly up (the wing)
Let’s fly home (the birth)
I’m still hoping (oh what)
Slowly I’m worried (he’s worried)
(the page)
(a face)
(again)
(he’s worried)
(I think)
(oh no)
(no sense)
(he’s worried)
Wheeling, wheeling, wheeling,
wheeling…
The morning faces look at the
waist
His so clever reason but not
the faces
That always tell you so much
Close up and then it’s the
hollow inside it
So sheer
The song in my head
I’ll fix up this thread
My mind will forget
All I have just said
[repeat sections]
.
Outside An Alley
[Originally a Wild West track that
never really worked in the band's treatment.
Definitely the most dense
piece I played. And, once again, about being in a relationship.]
Outside an alley another name
Another body but still I lay
Claim to the same
Inside an alley to find a space
With touching bodies and still
a trace
Claims to the same
Outside an alley
Outside an alley another name
Another body but still I lay
Claim to the same
It’s the same with me…
Outside an alley
Inside an alley to find a space
With touching bodies and still
a trace
Claims to the same
Outside an alley
.
My Willow Tips
[One of the few songs we never mixed properly. An attempt to write a more heavy
hitting tune but the lyrics were always inpenetrable.]
One time where? Hit me there.
Just once more face it
The neck in sight. Wake up.
One time scared. Wish me where.
Just once more fake it
The willow tips over.
"There" I said. Hit me where.
Just once more face it
The neck in sight. Wake up scared.
One time where? Hit me there
Just once more fake it
The willow tips over scared.
Just one little tune
Just one little tune wait
Just one little tune wait scared.
One time where? Hit me there.
Just once more face it
The neck in sight. Wake up.
One time scared Wish me where.
Just once more fake it
The willow tips over.
Now listen make it
The Willow tips over scared.
Just one little tune
Just one little tune wait
Just one little tune wait scared.
One time where? Hit me there.
Just once more face it
The neck in sight wake up.
My willow tips over
My willow tips over scared.
Scared
Just one little tune
Just one little tune wait
Just one little tune wait scared.
.
The Gundegai Coolabah
[Written on spec as Australia's national anthem for the "Trax 0983
Anthems" LP released by an Italian company in 1983. Weirdly, this was
positioned in the tracklist before Merzbow's song - which was synth pop just
like ours!]
There's a track winding back
To that long forgotten shack
Along the road to Gundegai
Where my mummy and pappy are waitin' for me
Neath the shade of that god-damned
Old coolabah tree
There's a track winding back
To that long forgotten shack
Along the road to Gundegai
[ohh ahh, etc]
Gundegai, Gundegai, Goonawindi, Gundegai
Gundegai, Gundegai, Goonawindi, Gundegai
Gundegai, Gundegai, Close your mouth and you'll catch no flies
Gundegai, Gundegai, Gundegai
Gundegai, Gundegai, Beauty mate, it's dinky-di
Gundegai, Gundegai, Gundegai
Gundegai, Gundegai, What a little beauty, Gundegai
Gundegai, Gundegai, Gundegai
.
The One I Know
[Another Wild West song re-jigged for NNS and another lost track - never
mixed properly - although this version sounds pretty good. Driven by a white
noise percussion track and augmented by me bashing a vinyl bag, if memory serves
me correctly]
Little said as they prepare [We all know the way to go]
Lips tight shut but saying so [We all know the way to go]
One at a time, One at a time
Tap, little glance, and the moment comes
The One I Know
[Press stop wait up keep close tight up]
Lies no-one is getting slow [We all know the way to go]
Feet hide out and coming no [We all know the way to go]
One at a time, One at a time
Tap, little glance, and the moment comes
The One I Know
[Press stop wait up keep close tight up]
Reference hidden to know [We all know the way to go]
Divided to separate low [We all know the way to go]
One at a time, One at a time
Tap, little glance, and the moment comes
The One I Know
[Press stop wait up keep close tight up]
[and some other stuff I can't work out]
.
When Was Jesus Born
[This one and the next were done in our last flurry of activity amidst the
recording of
the radio play - Look Within Upon Everything. They were never completed in the
studio -
backing tracks only - so only live versions exist.
An old gospel track that Patrick found which fitted in perfectly with our
style.]
[The chant draw an allegory between the arrival of the great fleet about 1350
and the coming of Christianity to New Zealand in 1814]
So tell me...
When was Jesus Born? It was the last month of the year.
Was it January? No
February? No
March April May?
June, July, Au-gust?
September, October, November?
The 25th day of December.
The last month of the year.
He was born of the virgin Mary
He was wrapped up in his swaddling
He was laid in the manger
It was the 25th day of December
The last month of the year
.
OK Fascist Get Outta My Way
[Written specifically as the last song we'd ever do live with huge ring
modulated Arp Oddy backing tracks, Michael Filewood on rock guitar, overblown
vocal performances and an imitation of the lead singer from Franky Goes To
Hollywood whose "Relax" track was so popular at the time and hints of
many other popular songs thrown in for good measure]
OK Fascist get outta my way
I got one or two or three or four-a things to say
You make me feel anxious with your sieg-heil hooray
So dig it little Hitler get outta my way
??? for a family of ten ???
"All my troubles seemed so far away
Now it looks as though they're here to stay"
We don't need this jive pollution
All we want is revolution
All we want is revolution
To end this endless dissolution
??? [complete rave out]
.
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