The Deal
OK, Children – Here’s the deal. When we were planning the new album we had intended to have all the lyrics on the foldout part. Our trusty artist, the handsome and mighty Tom Mcgrath (www.spikedmcgrath.com), had other ideas, however, and provided us with artwork so catastrophically awesome that we couldn’t bring ourselves to put ugly, ugly words all over it. Resultantly, this is the page where you can get all the intended lyrical nourishment without us having to mar the pretty pictures.

If that’s the kind of thing you like, GET IN AMONGST IT.

Wasteland
From the winding concrete ring roads and the council estates
To the endless sprawling suburbs, every turning looks the same,
This commuter town, so drained of any culture of its own
Oh this wasteland, this wasteland is our home
This wasteland, this wasteland is our home.

Oh what I would do for heritage, a homeland i could claim
As my daily inspiration and an ever burning flame
That may guide me on my travels, never leading me astray
Back to this wasteland, this wasteland is our home.

Well everyone needs roots to give them succour, pride and strength
But mine cannot take hold here so I’m giving them away
To these fake romantic notions of cultures far away
God save my homeland, my homeland is a waste.

And the ghosts of this town will shadow us wherever we may roam
Oh this wasteland, this wasteland is our home
This wasteland, this wasteland is our home.

Oh the folk songs we grew up with, vivid pictures they would paint,
But this is the M4 corridor, all colour fades to grey
In the home of footloose industry, where apathy is laced
Into the fabric of our daily lives, you find yourself displaced

So go spend your life a roving wanderer by trade
May you find some place to call your own, or wander to the grave
But you’ll never walk unburdened and you’ll never walk alone
In this wasteland, this wasteland is your home

Token Folkin’
There ain’t no lyrics, foo’

Eden Holme
Three weeks of calm seas
A blessing ‘t would seem
Her sails are a-sleepin’
Not even the gentlest breeze.
The sea’s a cruel mistress
As I’m sure you’ll find
She does her worst when
She tries to be kind.

I’m counting the days
As I sit here and stew
I’m dreaming of home and
Holding the helm to face you
The wind still eludes
The waves are subdued
This ship isn’t moving
Any time soon.

Just wake me when we’re heading home
Tell my girl that I still love her so
That I’d let the sea swallow me whole
Just to walk back to Blighty’s shores
Where the city limits call her name
That’s home
Take me home
Eden Holme

I’m fallen from grace
I’m just left here to waste
My sorrow grows deeper
Just like the cracks on my face
Miles and miles of ocean
Only whiskey to drink
I’ll knock back the whole bottle
And pray we might sink.

There’s a featureless horizon
Burned into my eyes
I’m awaiting salvation
Or at least a less painful demise
The wind ever eludes
The waves are subdued
This ship isn’t moving
Any time soon.

Mongrel
Led by enticing landmass
Aching feet find a new home
Gnarled forests and fetid swamps
And new grass on which to roam.
Pushed from behind by many
Fear of force unknown
This united Pangaea’s seeds
They’re scattered, shattered and sown

Land of the mongrel,
Home to the world.

Leather sandals form a solid boot
And affluent, shielded mass of man
There’s no fear of the unknown this time
Just a routine conquest of land.
The caretaker waits an age on the throne
As his falling empire expands
Pulled from behind by jewel encrusted fists
Some sever the homecoming strand.

Land of the mongrel,
Home to the world.

And did those with feet of clay walk with pride
Or scurry for a place to hide
And when they put their foot down
Turn with pride to turn the tide
They didn’t want to die.
And to England’s mountains green
We are all intruders of the most obscene kind
Chasing clockwork dreams
To build, Destroy
Double, toil and trouble
Now the fire burns with hatred
An enemy is created
And the mountain sits frustrated
As the dead-bolt locks.

A cheering voyage long and frozen,
Heated hearts by hope and lust,
Some floated away upon riches annexed
After others had settled as dust
And though the old complaints remained
Complaints complained, Complaints ingrained
The puffing was no mighty gust
This once stinging W.A.S.P’s nest
Has finally started to trust.

Land of the mongrel,
Home to the world.

The tapestry is never completed
(Winds of changes can force your hand)
Guide seeming deadly arrows to your eye
(These taxing questions show the truth)
The mongrel outlives the purebred,
These mongrels will outlive the sky.

Land of the mongrel,
Home to the world.

My Son John
My son John was tall and slim
and he’d a leg for ev’ry limb.
But now he’s got no legs at all
for he ran a race with a cannon ball

Timmy roo dun da, fadda riddle da
Whack fo’ the riddle Timmy roo dun da

Well were ya drunk or were ya blind
when ya left your two fine legs behind
Or was it sailin’ on the sea
wore your two fine legs right down to the knee

I was not drunk, I was not blind
when I left my two fine legs behind
Nor was it sailin’ on the sea
wore my two fine legs right down to the knee

Each foreign war I’ll now denounce
‘tween the King of England and the King of France
For I’d rather my legs as they used to be
than the king of Spain and his whole navy

I was tall and I was slim
And I’d a leg for ev’ry limb
But now I’ve got no legs at all
They were both shot away by a cannon ball

I was tall and I was slim
And I’d a leg for ev’ry limb
But now I’ve got no legs at all
They done come off on a cannon ball

Mong Some Hoof
Again, no lyrics, but let it be known that the origins of the title come from a game called (surprisingly) ‘Mong Some Hoof’ in which you are required to flick you shoe up from your foot and catch it in your mouth. There is a two player version entitled ‘Can You Strictly Come Mong Some Segue’ in which you flick your shoe into somebody else’s mouth. I JUST THOUGHT YOU SHOULD KNOW.

Yuppie Dracula
When the city casts its shadows in the pale light of the moon
And the creeps creep in their Jack Wills’ slacks from neon-fronted tombs
You’ll feel the cold air at your back and know that he’s there

Laboured are the passes made by stout unfinished youths
At uninterested ladies whom they’d so love to abuse
And in their wake to stake his claim you know he’ll be there

Stay calm
Bolt your doors, remain calm
It’s Yuppie Dracula

As scarlet as this hue ‘ pervades these rat-infested dumps
Are his twinkling eyes soaked in the fires of lechery and lust
Always watching for the next poor soul he’ll catch unaware
All for the harlots, turned-up collars, oversized and overprices
Pinstriped, perfumed, paying through the nose in wine bars where the ladies wait in line
And in the morning light he’ll cease to be there.

Stay calm
Bolt your doors, remain calm
This is not a nightmare, remain calm
It’s Yuppie Dracula

Farewell the drunken, buxom maidens laden with Vermouth
For whom the liquor may prove hinderance to fidelity and truth
When the pratfall and the gutter call you know he’ll be there

Stay calm
Bolt your doors, remain calm
This is not a nightmare, remain calm
It’s Yuppie Dracula

Boatepitaph
Man had boat
Boat fell in
He come off
Sank all down
Lungs got wet
Clumsy boat

Cheer Up, Love ( Worse Things Happen At Sea)
I saw a woman by the shore
Her feet half buried in the sand
As waves were lappin’, sun was nappin’
She was cryin’ for her man
And with a tear she dropped
And never stopped
And told of how this misery began

Each day for seven years
She’d walked the beach in case she saw
A heaving ship returning, fat with riches
Headed for the shore
With needless wealth
And the one man
That she’d been longin’ for

No clue was given of
The crew of her lover’s cursed ship
A simple voyage of discovery
A three-year round-trip
Sullen hope had never yielded
So she knelt with quivering lip

So there the woman by the shore
Her knees half buried in the sand
As waves were lappin’, sun was nappin’
She was searchin’ for her man
With a final tear she stopped
And I began to understand.

This underwater tomb is keeping me from you
While my decaying body festers, my soul will never rest
And though you may cry yet
You must endeavor to forget me
So when you learn of my demise
Your soul can rise

The setting of the sun was fire
Her face a crimson red
Her bloodshot eyes staring toward the beheaded figurehead
Disfigured, dismembered
But remembered in his stead.

Now seven years of doubt
Have left her face by time betrayed
Unraveled dreams of a past life with her man becoming frayed
With a tear she dropped into the sea
As hope began to fade

Aspirations, I Have Some
Can we trade in these lives we lead
‘cause baby you should see me in my dreams
Fighting assassins off in bullet time
Spinnin’ three-sixty degrees
‘cause all these movies got me thinkin’
Could I ever be like them?
Do you think John McClane gets shycock
Taking a piss with other dudes?

That’s why he’s John McClane.

I wanna wear a vest top for a living
And shoot guns out of cars while they’re still spinning
Go out and prove I’m hard down on the Boulevard
Shit on the Reds just like Christopher Hitchens
And it’s really got me thinkin’
Could I ever be like them?
Do you think Arnie lives at his parents’ house
And listens to The Gaslight Anthem?

He says they’re pretty good.

I wish that when I sang
It sounded just like Springsteen
That if I took the stand
That folks would sit and listen

I wish that I was in a gang
Grinding a living on the corners
Or the maverick on a cop show
Bustin’ heads and takin’ numbers

And I’d look like Jesse Custer
And I’d throw down like him too
Go chasin’ women like McNulty
After a dozen shots or two

And when I write a breakdown
That sounds like Racing in the Street
Not a soul will ever notice
Just think the song is pretty sweet.

Dear Mol
Dear Molly, my sweetheart
We’re coming undone at the seams
And all the dreams that we shared in the past
They’re not gonna last
They’re already half shattered and torn
Replaced by insufferable hatred and scorn
Well ya should’ve been warned
A long time before you let me through your door
Well from here on I’m not your concern

And you scent still remains in the bed where we lay
Where we promised each other we’d go to our graves
Having never betrayed or upset or dismayed
But ya threw all those promises away

And as soon as your gone, girl
I’m hitting the drink
I’ll get wasted and into my pit I will sink
But rejoice that for once
I’m not draggin’ ya down with me too
‘cause I was doin’ alright ‘til the day I met you
So hold on to your pride
‘cause I’m holding mine too
When I say that we’re neither to blame

And the sweet scent of you in the bed where we lay
Gets replaced by the stench of my drunken, decaying,
Festering, worthless and haggard old frame
And though I’m a fool, I won’t change.

Well ya knew this was comin’ to ya one o’ these days
There’s no hop for a wanker, so set in his ways
Did you really believe
That I’d stick this one out ‘til the end?

Well I’ve never beem more certain, Mol
And never more willing
To spend ev’ry last pissed up nightmare with you
‘cause now that you’re gone, girl
I’m drinkin’ for two
So let these bedsores become my reminder of you
Oh, dear Molly, a reminder we’re through,

And you scent still remains in the bed where we lay
But it will slowly succumb to my own bitterness and rage
As I try to kid myself that I’m better off this way
And though I’m a fool I won’t change
And though I’m a fool I won’t change

Bad Reception
The reception crowd’s hoggin’ the floor
As the cheers start to swell even more
And although the furore’s too much to endure
He ain’t got nowhere else to withdraw

And the couples get drunk and romance
While the rest start to pair of a dance
And the whiskey will pour for a good few hours more
‘cause he can’t be found ‘til he’s been lost

And the jukebox sings
Sha la la la la, la la la la
Fuckin’ la la ti da
And the girls twist and jive
And pretend they’ll be kind
Blessed with cunning and spite as they are.

The grooms’ folks, they start to unwind
With frivolity pointless and blind
And they’ll pretend to ignore their son’s married a whore
Who will poison and fuck with his mind

And the cackling laughter erupts
And it showers him with bitter disgust
The girls flash him their eyes in their skimpy attire
He ain’t got nothin’ left but for lust

And the jukebox sings
Sha la la la la, la la la la
Fuckin’ la la ti da
And the girls twist and jive
And pretend they’ll be kind
Oh how goading and spiteful they are.

And the jukebox sings
Sha la la la la, la la la la
Fuckin’ la la ti da
High Spirits take flight
Just like ghosts in the night
Who surrender to daylight once more