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Comet Gain
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1
In our pockets, receipts and machines
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In our estate the lift doesn't work
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Walking is hard, 'cos here it's meant to be
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In our flunky fingers, silver rings and sweat
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From all that worried waiting for things to happen
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You know they should, if only they would
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But in our heads, visions of getting beat up in back alleyways
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Too much mincing about
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London's schemes devalue its youth
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It's inside your burning veins
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I'm in love with the solidarity that we know longer exist
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The 80's soul boy misunderstood letters
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All those obscure books and films and 45s
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Let convictions strengthen love for you, more than you can know
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In our bones it feels like I'm going cold, physical
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Am I disappearing from sight?
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No friends, or lovers, or letters
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In our hearts a secret
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Behind phone box language
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Bugs in the tap
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'Cos there are no secrets kept hidden in this big seedy city
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In our mouths contempt, tops of alcoholic lies dribbling proletarian junk, like a spastic
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Every year you get a little sadder, a little drunker
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A little more violent, cynical, waiting for direction or a new discipline
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In our pants, hard cocks, a ruffian on the stairs
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Writing dirty words in Archway
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"So the only reason you play bad guitar is to get a bad reaction
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All this clone collective band shit hides your boredom, contempt, and no ideas"
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Our only ambition is just to die
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Solidarity with other bands is good, we have no ideas
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In our palms, silver rings to give to young brides
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Kept safe for now, in our souls important decisions wait
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Inside creeping out, pushing you forward into
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an abyss of future uncertainty, of torture, treated cloth
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Climbing like a monkey to reach the top of stairs, lift broken down
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Get into the car, (?) under the concrete cement
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Go home quickly 'cos we have no ideas
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In discos chatting up girls, dropping gins, slurring stupid words,
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Nicotine fingers reaching out
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Go home and listen to your cracking needle records in stained sleeves
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Put it all into unfocused clarity
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Estates all over London full of despair and violence
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Loud radios are settling our nerves
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We look to get back into tunes and chords
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We sing and cry all night
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And in the morning it starts again, and again, and again
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Makes the guitar snap, all through the pissed-up slumber
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Your body is getting colder, there's no more purpose
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Lost, nowhere to go, have they chucked you out of school?
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Made you walk the parks?
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I wanted to be a monkey, not end up a cartoon
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We have no ideas
Comet Gain - Clang of the concrete Swans
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