LIVING WITH THE PAST

Intro

[Instrumental]
 

My Sunday Feeling

My Sunday feeling is coming on over me.
My Sunday feeling is coming on over me,
Now that the night is over.
Got to clear my head so I can see.
Till I get to put together,
that old feeling won't let me be.

Won't somebody tell me where I laid my head last night?
Won't somebody tell me where I laid my head last night?
I really don't remember,
But with one more cigarette and I think I might.
Till I get to put together,
well that old feeling can't get me right.

Need some assistance, have you listened to what I said?
Need some assistance, have you listened to what I said?
Oh, I don't feel so good.
Need someone to help me to my bed.
Till I get to put together,
that old feeling is in my head.
 

Roots To Branches

Words get written.  Words get twisted.
Old meanings move in the drift of time.
Lift the flickering torches.  See gentle shadows change
the features of the faces cut in unmoving stone.
Bad mouth on a prayer day, hope no one's listening.
Roots down in the wet clay, branches glistening.

True disciples carrying that message
to colour just a little with their personal touch.
Home-spun fancy weavers and naked half-believers
Crusades and creeds descend like fiery flakes of snow.
Bad mouth on a prayer day, hope no one's listening.
Roots down in the wet clay, branches glistening.

In wet and windy priest-holes.  Grand in vast cathedrals.
High on lofty minarets or in the temples of doom.
I hope the old man's got his face on.
He'd better be some quick change artist.
Suffer little children to make their minds up soon.
Bad mouth on a prayer day, hope no one's listening.
Roots down in the wet clay, branches glistening.
 

Jack-In-The-Green

Have you seen Jack-In-The-Green?
With his long tail hanging down.
He sits quietly under every tree
in the folds of his velvet gown.
He drinks from the empty acorn cup
the dew that dawn sweetly bestows.
And taps his cane upon the ground
signals the snowdrops it's time to grow.

It's no fun being Jack-In-The-Green
no place to dance, no time for song.
He wears the colours of the summer soldier
carries the green flag all the winter long.
Jack, do you never sleep

does the green still run deep in your heart?
Or will these changing times,
motorways, powerlines,
keep us apart?
Well, I don't think so
I saw some grass growing through the pavements today.

The rowan, the oak and the holly tree
are the charges left for you to groom.
Each blade of grass whispers Jack-In-The-Green.
Oh Jack, please help me through my winter's night.
And we are the berries on the holly tree.
Oh, the mistlethrush is coming.
Jack, put out the light.
 

The Habanero Reel

Cool in the corner, tom cat sitting
on the edge of the yard; sand-flies flitting.
Orange order on a field of green.
Smothers me to smithereens.
Rum and cola, ice cubes crashing.
Jumping beans and brown eyes flashing.
Long hair swinging, tell me how d'you feel?
Well, hot and fancy, it's the habanero reel.

Troubled skin? Pour oil upon it.
She's fit to burn in her new Scotch Bonnet.
Spice up anybody's stew.
Frogs and goats and chickens too.

Barefoot in the sunshine.
Kicking empty beer cans down on the high tide line.
Big wave nearly float your dress away.
And I'm thinking that it's just another day:
just another day.

Feel that hot rush start its tickle.
Sweat is rising, taste buds prickle
with ears of bat and eye of eagle.
It's just as well it's strictly legal.
 

Sweet Dream

You'll hear me calling in your sweet dream,
can't hear your daddy's warning cry.
You're going back to be all the things you want to be,
while in sweet dreams you softly sigh.

You hear my voice is calling
to be mine again,
live the rest of your life in a day.
Get out and get what you can
while your mummy's at home a-sleeping.
No time to understand
`cause they lost what they thought they were keeping.

No one can see us in your sweet dream.
don't hear you leave to start the car.
All wrapped up tightly in the coat you borrowed from me,
your place of resting is not far.

You'll hear my voice is calling
to be mine again,
live the rest of your life in a day.
Get out and get what you can
While your mummy's at home a-sleeping.
No time to understand,
`cause they lost what they thought they were keeping.
 

In The Grip Of Stronger Stuff

[Instrumental]
 

Aqualung

Sitting on a park bench
eyeing little girls with bad intent.
Snot running down his nose
greasy fingers smearing shabby clothes.
Drying in the cold sun
Watching as the frilly panties run.
Feeling like a dead duck
spitting out pieces of his broken luck.

Sun streaking cold
an old man wandering lonely.
Taking time
the only way he knows.
Leg hurting bad,
as he bends to pick a dog-end
he goes down to the bog
and warms his feet.

Feeling alone
the army's up the rode
salvation à la mode and
a cup of tea.
Aqualung my friend
don't start away uneasy
you poor old sod, you see, it's only me.
Do you still remember
December's foggy freeze
when the ice that
clings on to your beard is
screaming agony.
And you snatch your rattling last breaths
with deep-sea-diver sounds,
and the flowers bloom like
madness in the spring.
 

Locomotive Breath

In the shuffling madess
of the locomotive breath,
runs the all-time loser,
headlong to his death.
He feels the piston scraping
steam breaking on his brow
old Charlie stole the handle and
the train won't stop going
no way to slow down.

He sees his children jumping off
at the stations - one by one.
His woman and his best friend
in bed and having fun.
He's crawling down the corridor
on his hands and knees
old Charlie stole the handle and
the train won't stop going
no way to slow down.

He hears the silence howling
catches angels as they fall.
And the all-time winner
has got him by the balls.
He picks up Gideons Bible
open at page one
old Charlie stole the handle and
the train won't stop going
no way to slow down.
 

Living In The Past

Happy and I'm smiling,
walk a mile to drink your water.
You know I'd love to love you,
and above you there's no other.
We'll go walking out
while others shout of war's disaster.
Oh, we won't give in,
let's go living in the past.

Once I used to join in
every boy and girl was my friend.
Now there's revolution, but they don't know
what they're fighting.
Let us close out eyes;
outside their lives go on much faster.
Oh, we won't give in,
we'll keep living in the past.
 

Protect And Survive

[Instrumental]
 

Nothing Is Easy

Nothing is easy.
Though time gets you worrying
my friend, it's o.k.
Just take your life easy
and stop all that hurrying,
be happy my way.

When tension starts mounting
and you've lost count
of the pennies you've missed,
just try hard and see why they're not worrying me,
they're last on my list.
Nothing's easy.

Nothing is easy, you'll find
that the squeeze won't turn out so bad.
Your fingers may freeze, worse things happen at sea,
there's good times to be had.
So if you're alone and you're down to the bone,
just give us a play.
You'll smile in a while and discover
that I'll get you happy my way
nothing's easy.
 

Wond'ring Aloud

Wond'ring aloud
how we feel today.
Last night sipped the sunset
my hands in her hair.
We are our own saviours
as we start both our hearts beating life
into each other.

Wond'ring aloud
will the years treat us well.
As she floats in the kitchen,
I'm tasting the smell
of toast as the butter runs.
Then she comes, spilling crumbs on the bed
and I shake my head.
And it's only the giving
that makes you what you are.
 

Life Is A Long Song

When you're falling awake and you take stock of the new day,
and you hear your voice croak as you choke on what you need to say,
well, don't you fret, don't you fear,
I will give you good cheer.

Life's a long song.
Life's a long song.
Life's a long song.

If you wait then your plate I will fill.

As the verses unfold and your soul suffers the long day,
and the twelve o'clock gloom spins the room,
you struggle on your way.
Well, don't you sigh, don't you cry,
lick the dust from your eye.

Life's a long song.
Life's a long song.
Life's a long song.

We will meet in the sweet light of dawn.

As the Baker Street train spills your pain all over your new dress,
and the symphony sounds underground put you under duress,
well don't you squeal as the heel grinds you under the wheel.

Life's a long song.
Life's a long song.
Life's a long song.

But the tune ends too soon for us all.
 

A Christmas Song

Once in Royal David's City stood a lonely cattle shed,
where a mother held her baby.
You'd do well to remember the things He later said.
When you're stuffing yourselves at the Christmas parties,
you'll just laugh when I tell you to take a running jump.
You're missing the point I'm sure does not need making
that Christmas spirit is not what you drink.

So how can you laugh when your own mother's hungry,
and how can you smile when the reasons for smiling are wrong?
And if I just messed up your thoughtless pleasures,
remember, if you wish, this is just a Christmas song.

(Hey!  Santa!  Pass us that bottle, will you?)
 

Cheap Day Return

On Preston platform
do your soft shoe shuffle dance.
Brush away the cigarette ash that's
falling down your pants.
And you sadly wonder
does the nurse treat your old man
the way she should.
She made you tea,
asked for your autograph
what a laugh.
 

Mother Goose

As I did walk by Hampstead Fair
I came upon Mother Goose - so I turned her loose
she was screaming.
And a foreign student said to me
was it really true there are elephants and lions too
in Piccadilly Circus?

Walked down by the bathing pond
to try and catch some sun.
Saw at least a hundred schoolgirls sobbing
into hankerchiefs as one.
I don't believe they knew
I was a schoolboy.

And a bearded lady said to me
if you start your raving and your misbehaving
you'll be sorry.
Then the chicken-fancier came to play
with his long red beard (and his sister's weird:
she drives a lorry).

Laughed down by the putting green
I popped `em in their holes.
Four and twenty labourers were labouring
digging up their gold.
I don't believe they knew
that I was Long John Silver.

Saw Johnny Scarecrow make his rounds
in his jet-black mac (which he won't give back)
stole it from a snow man.
 

Dot Com

It's a wide world out there
So much wider than imagined
I can't quite put my finger on the pulse
Of your heart softly beating
Just beneath the raw silk sheen
That reflects the tints of autumn from the hills.

So punch my name.
And in case you wonder -
I'll be yours - yours, dot com.

Executive accommodation
Bland but nonetheless appealing
Waiters discretely at your beck and call
Place the tall sun-down potion
Lightly by your velvet elbow
While you compose a message on the wall.

So punch my name.
And in case you wonder -
I'll be yours - yours, dot com.

With your handmade leather valise
Packed and ready, ready waiting
Showered and dressed down lightly for the heat
Gice a clue; leave a kind word
Hint as to a destination
A domain where our cyber-souls might meet.

So punch my name.
And in case you wonder -
I'll be yours - yours, dot com.
 

Fat Man

Don't want to be a fat man,
people would think that I was
just good fun.
Would rather be a thin man,
I am so glad to go on being one.
Too much to carry around with you,
no chance of finding a woman who
will love you in the morning and all the night time too.

Don't want to be a fat man,
have not the patience to ignore all that.
Hate to admit to myself half of my problems
came from being fat.
Won't waste my time feeling sorry for him,
I seen the other side to being thin.
Roll us both down a mountain
and I'm sure the fat man would win.
 

Some Day The Sun Won't Shine For You

In the morning - gonna get my things together.
Packing up and I'm leaving this place.
I don't believe you'll cry, there'll be a smile upon your face.

I didn't think how much you'd hurt me.
That's something that I laugh about.
Bring in the good times, baby.
And let the bad times out.

That old sun keeps on shining,
But someday it won't shine for you.
In the morning I'll be leaving.
I'll leave your mother too.
 

Cheerio

Along the coast road, by the headland
the early lights of winter glow.
I'll pour a cup to you my darling.
Raise it up - say Cheerio.