Songs

The art will have to wait
The art will have to wait
There’s a child who needs to be fed
There’s someone screaming
in your head

The art will have to wait
The art will have to wait
No time to read or be read
There’s a child weeping
in your head

But you can take another pill, another pill, another pill
Take another pill, another little happy pill
take another… it’s alright you can just take another
pill

There’s someone screaming…
There’s a child weeping…

Take another pill, another pill, another pill…

The art will have to wait
The art will have to wait
You’ve got bricks holding down your wings
but do not be afraid this little kid sings

The art will have to wait she said
The art will have to wait they said
You’ve got bricks holding down your wings but
please don’t be afraid
this little kid sings

I couldn’t give a fuck
I couldn’t give a fuck
Yeah whatever, baby
I couldn’t give a fuck

I couldn’t give a fuck what you think about
as you lie alone at night
and I couldn’t give a fuck who you’re thinking of
when you sit alone and write
I couldn’t give a fuck if you’re sad and tired
and shivering in your bed
I couldn’t give a fuck what you dream about
when you rest that beautiful head
I couldn’t give a fuck
I couldn’t give a fuck
Yeah whatever, baby
I couldn’t give a fuck

He said ‘I’ll have another beer, another little pill,
another herbal smoke.
There are problems in this world, oh, and all of them are mine
but your anger’s just a joke.
You’re just another face and I’m facing away
from your stupid fists of text.
Now that you’ve had your fifteen minutes —
meh — whatever — next!
I couldn’t give a fuck
I couldn’t give a fuck
Yeah whatever, baby
I couldn’t give a fuck’

Oh but come back when you’re sober
and come back when you’re straight
When the paranoia’s over
it might not be too late
When you’ve had enough of girlies
who couldn’t give a fuck
You’d better call me nice and early
Cos I won’t be waiting up!
I couldn’t give a fuck
I couldn’t give a fuck
Yeah whatever, baby
I couldn’t give a fuck

(Just another 3-chord song. I woke up with the idea in my head after listening to the Pogues)

I’m workin’ all day and I’m earnin’ my money
cos that’s what you do when there’s landlords to pay
But just after midday my mobile is beeping
A message from Teddy: meet u @ Ray’s?
I message back ‘K’, check my clothes in the mirror
even though Teddy don’t care about style
and neither do I between knockoff and dinner
when Teddy will give me his five-oclock smile

Oh Teddy Oh Teddy your five-oclock smile
Oh Teddy I’ve walked for so many a mile
Sure you’re just a rogue and I’m just a sinner
but nothin’ compares to your five oclock smile

The afternoon’s slow and I dream of four-thirty
I’ll take off my headset and stroll down to Ray’s
where Tony the barman will pull me a beer
and I’ll give him a generous tip with my eyes
I’ll chat to the people who prop up the bar
and bask in the noise until Teddy arrives
He’ll never be early but I won’t be angry
for Teddy will give me his five-oclock smile

Oh Teddy Oh Teddy your five-oclock smile
Oh Teddy I’ve walked for so many a mile
I sold my possessions, abandoned my family
to get within range of your five-oclock smile

The rest of the world can go rev up its engines
The rest of the world can go make up its lies
Ray’s is a place where nobody stares
if you’re silent or loud or weird or on fire
We hang up our coats on a hook in the corner
Peel off our layers, relax for a while
If life is a lottery I am a winner
for Teddy will give me his five-oclock smile

Oh Teddy Oh Teddy your five-oclock smile
Oh Teddy I’ve walked for so many a mile
I pawned my last vestige of glamour and glitter
to get within range of your five-oclock smile

Oh Teddy Oh Teddy your five-oclock smile
Oh Teddy I’ve walked for so many a mile
Sure you’re just a rogue and I’m just a sinner
but nothin’ compares to your five oclock smile

Mango is my lover’s taste
Mango is my lover’s taste
Lord don’t let it go to waste cos it’s a mango,
mango mango

Mango is my lover’s voice
Mango is my lover’s voice
Synaesthetic girls rejoice cos it’s a mango,
mango mango…
Mango mango

Mango is my lover’s sweat
Mango is my lover’s sweat
It’s a pheromone you won’t forget cos it’s a mango,
mango mango

But if we want what’s out of reach, it makes for better art
If we keep it out of reach, it makes for better art
We can redirect our passion into action and art
The ascetic flagellation of aesthetic masturbation
(Mango is my lover’s sweat)

Were you just another notch on my guitar?
Just another song of letting go?
Just another place we couldn’t go?
Just another late night shooting star?
Just another song on my guitar?
(Mango is my lover’s taste)

If I reach through the pain, will I reach another person?
Stretch through the pain, make a connection?
Use it — don’t numb it — paint it with meaning
It’s a thought, an idea — send it out screaming
(Mango is my lover’s voice)

Will you water that mango and make it grow? Sun
shine on that mango, make it grow? Will you
water that mango and make it grow cos it’s a mango,
mango mango…

Mango mango.