Finding Myself A Place In The Ranks - Johnny Pulp and the Lemonheads
I could have been one of the first (1).mp3
Sleeve Notes
could have been one of the first could even have been the last you can think of something and sing o and o and o o o. You ever heard fado and cried and cried like an endless beauty and some ways you can jump and shout and others no one even moves I'd seduce you if you let me I'd swathe you in the swoops and pizzicato and you'd free me with your melodies and that cielo infinito o wow. I'm swinging like a pendulum and all the phonies have bitten the dust because everything's an underworld now everything's just gone underworld. I could have been one of the first could even have been the last you can think of something and sing o and o and o o o. I'm swinging like a pendulum and all the phonies have bitten the dust because everything's an underworld now everything's just gone underworld. fuck me honey...Things are always tense I'm the centre of a quarrel Paint like Schiele and have high aspirations Try to act like others but its a struggle play the lawyer for the poor and write poems like Lorca Live like a news flash and become a secret scandal and everything spoils dirty whatever I touch. It's exhausting. Someone's always informing the cops and the facts of life are rumours And people I know their heads are above the trees There's a Redwood growing in the city park and red kites floating by and the atmosphere's exploding and nine out of ten make my skin crawl. You passed the funeral and listened to those bells tolling And that swinging sound doesn't stop and your cards stopped working. You have the jitters all down the line And read Edgar Allen Poe those graves are right in the thick of it And your heads under the water.I've speculated and worried helped the damsel in distress But nothing ever really percolated and it seems the rules they don't apply. But nobody has failed me And I'm demoralised and ashamed The books turned out sleazy And the paintings don't inseminate. I'm no hero chewing the fat Not adorable nor chilling I can't get further and am deadlocked I seem doomed to eternity. Terrified and hopeless I'm ordained to be fated And no body got to know me And everyday's like saying goodbye a hundred times Catch me if you can who wants to sleep with the fishes? Europe is bleeding And Amerika's changed its spots. The hills are alive but the valleys are burning I want someone to want me more than the birds the fucking sky. Shine your light on and let's go to the heart tonight Watch the silver screen blindly Watch the temperature rising. I caught an Uber at 4.30 in the morning but it was taking me away I'm slow on the uptake and bury myself in lies.Is anything left now from when I thought I had histories I watch midsummer murders Like they do in France. One night there's a sadist but its far far away in another city in another time I might have been a tree. your friends are all suspicious I'm in the dock without a plea and my body's a roundhead and mind's gone cavalier. Red roses and empty pots grape vines and the fruit of the earth I've seen prayer mats and hook ups Less plausible than hallucinations. I always go overboard and try and keep in check and then explode just blow up like a bunch of grapes all over the plate. Chalk me up throw me out remember me forget. Here comes the dawn again and her dark fist rises and the window is blue and her eyes they see like she's deaf and dumb she can swivel and be a shepherd or strike out and be a force and her feet are where the future will be waiting for the outpouring of a vast spring. You live facing the brink. You lived facing the brink and lead your time to drink a nymph without a shroud so we can all see it, your glory yes, we see it, your outrageous glory. The high street is reddish dyed the lights keep changing like militias and here come the onslaughts this kind of virgin hostility.Is that a dog letting out its barking as if a general with stark troops but what is this but a new threat something like the end that's sought, and from me. I'm all the soul we evoke. I'm all the soul we evoke when we shed by lingering. Rings of smoke. I'm being effaced ever so gently. I'm the lyric flight towards your lips.There ought to be choirs. the reality of the high street is villainous and the shops crude and excluded. I'm a black rock where the north wind rolls and am pious in a human way there's something erotic and spirits consecrate this fatal mould. You can be the nubile fold the immaterial sorrow the oppressed ripe star and tomorrow's silver multitudes. O how you shine, o how you shine. Verlaine where is he out there on the lawn? I'm much maligned and a shallow trickle. All the breathing is spent now yea all the breath is spent now. I'm a con artist and a con babe So? So what? You're out of moves Come use some of mine Did you go back on your word? Did you sell me a line? And are you now fully regretful and dying inside babe? Well my cheatin heart's unlimited and doesn't ever break or break down It's what I know and how I know And I don't look back in anything You were kind of shameless and hot and a devil the drifter and the cynic and now you're needing more Over the sea and to the stars I'm going to be full blown a free shadow unfurl my vertebrae shuddering and a unison, all in one. Fly down from the outer regions watchman on my own guard strange victories flying like the scythe's blade. Clean severance hacks to suppress or just hack away an immemorial warfare where the torso gets defeated no more drinking whilst fasting a pact to surviving in a lasting pursuit of pure sight and the the wild flight going high to perpetual coldness to out freeze it, the superior glacier and a weird baptism where my head has lights so you see the principle of salvation bowing to my heads up. Did you ever go inside yourself did you ever fool yourself did you ever know loneliness well its coming and you'll be sorry I'm never going to reduce the faun to the dealings of the sacred grove and that swell hesitant flute the bus stop rides and cars press themselves all around this is now and everything's modern and steals itself through the clearings of the electric landscapes fast asleep like everything is at most jus tfour lines mostly four words. enough.You should wear bindweed and stay simple. Dujardin will make you popular when you tik tok yourself posthumously. take a little sleep in the cafe electric. Wait for auspicious days. Everything will stay askance. Tunes have retreated to the ends of hope. There is little hope. There is nothing here. Are you the shy nymph or is this all an act to see how many times I'll miss you with clumsy kisses and rapture alone? I'm the tightest kind hearted. visit the poetry shop wear a little rouged up philosophy count down and take off. you'll always be the talk of the town and the golden child in the house. I've tried seeking you out with the red herrings of a headmaster. I don't wear a crown. Your merest glance destroys me, cuts short my praises. The postcards recreate and my giggles resound in harmony with Mr and Mrs Whistler110 old Rue du Bac must be nice there at110 old Rue du Bac Is it always June for you? I'm kind of unsatisfied but these picture postcards are Degas and his mock-orange blossoms23 Rue Ballu23 Rue Ballu you're lovely and elsewhere. This next one is Monsieur Monet and it must be now neither winter nor summer and you taking a picture on the bridge at Giverny near Vernonin the Eure. Missing you, wish you were here.I held the Renoir at the villa des Arts de Clichy who gets my blues and some more blues and your bare shoulder See you ha, I guess not.I 'm dwelling and am the vulgar herd no little salon of Madame Laurent and her little house on the Boulevard. Time's draining me away. I'm waiting by the side of the canal and the river in Hanwell near the ancient viaduct where the trains cross of like in Chirico the desolation of movement and alone. Farewell then to all your travels and elms and chesnuts and plain tresses the distributed tulle and soft breezes far away in another land. I'm listening to the muse, who is silent. I pretend I'm savouring fame slowly but there's none of that just the thought of you in another's arms at Nazelles in Indre-et-Loire wishing me well in a postcard. Never inclined to go back never inclined to buck up Never inclined to visit these days Not even your home 11 b Rue de Balzac in the amaranthine morning by the church spire and the faraway tumbles of wall and grass born above the woods and the hill .I gave you all my wishes and wasn't innocent nor hurried but maybe I should have been. Being cool means being cool alone whilst you distribute your pleasure across the many in full bloom and greetings somewhere in Honfleur like a student fairy working at piano playing seeking neither medic nor anything just a stick across the ass and a kiss. who plays the harp now? Post comes electric to the riches of the throat sing a fire to heaven and see how age has drowned me under the sea so my thoughts walk alone never swim. take an unwavering aim like I did at you like a gunman a rabbit or in a green smock casting a sweep-net into the river. It's like hunting clouds whist sailing where the litchi ripens close at hand and yet like Verlaine and Rimbaud read aloud Far far away. I'm simple Its simple And soft Softer Where the fleece and all yields yea just there where the fleece and all yields I'm crossing the plain will be there by nightfall and might be the soul of Madeleine and you're a cannibal girl. The desert is a brush and vibrant carries death in its long secrets and you've ancient wings and vistas you're the unicorn and the air being breathed. Woah. Your breasts are the marbles where the lilies all grow wild and my gaze is frank and high like the spirits of the flowerhead and in the far flung dawn in a far off land we might reverse our flight and come to your unconscious hand that stuns the thighs secrets and bodies in wings of verses The finger's sceptre rules the land yours and mine and you spread me out and spread out like a wing across the beds and feel obliged to disguise the smiles. Come and listen to the bad news Oh the news is bad news I don't want a sweeping song Just another last drink and you. It was just another day and the sadness was no sadder than when this came through and where was your turn-around? There's no more heartbreak no time to walk the thin sorrowful line just a worse version of this life and the next aint no better. Skin crawls over the hills Skin crawls in the valleys gone has any kind of glory and all I'm hearing are tolling bells There are people crying and people screaming and beating but if you look past their faces you'll just see hope drowning down. I'm hardly floating now I'm hardly floating, gonna sink down gonna sink down deep .