Record Prayer - Comet Gain: testi di canzoni, video musicali e concerti

Record Prayer

17

Rock

Record Prayer è stato pubblicato il 27 gennaio 2009 da What's Your Rupture? come parte dell'album Broken Record Prayers

Dettagli della canzone

AlbumBroken Record Prayers

Data di uscita27 gennaio 2009

EtichettaWhat's Your Rupture?

Melodicità

Acousticità

Valence

Ballabilità

Energia

BPM111

PANORAMICA

TESTI

Crediti

PERFORMING ARTISTS

Comet Gain

Performer

COMPOSITION & LYRICS

David Christian

David Christian

Composer

PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING

Ian Shaw

Mixing Engineer

Will Bourton

Producer

Testi

And in our pockets receipts and machines

In our estate the lift don't work

And walking is hard

'Cause here it's meant to be

And in our flunky fingers

Sobbing rings and sweat

From all that worried waiting

For things to happen

That you know they should

If only they would

And in our heads visions of getting beat up in back alleyways

Too much mincing about

London schemes to devalue its youth

It's inside your burning veins

I'm in love with the solidarity that we no longer exist

Like 80s soul boy misunderstood lepers

And all those obscure books and films and 45s

With their conviction and strength and love for you

More than you even know

And in our bones it feels like I'm going cold

Invisible

Am I disappearing from sight

With no friends or lovers or letters?

And in our hearts the secret behind the phone box language

Bugged and tapped

Because there are no secrets kept hid in these big CBC

And in our mouths contempt

Toxic alcoholic lies

Dribbling proletariat junk

Like a spastic

Every year you get a little sadder

A little drunker

A little more violent

Cynical, waiting for direction

Or a new discipline

In our pants

Hard cocks

From roughing on the stairs

Writing dirty words in Archway

You say the only reason you play bad guitar

Is to get bad reaction

All this clone collective band shit

Through boredom, contempt, and no ideas

Our only ambition is just to die

Solidarity with other bands is good

We have no ideas

In our palms

Silver rings

To give to young brides

We're kept safe for now

In our souls important decisions wait inside

Creeping out

Pushing you forwards into the abyss of future uncertainty

Torture and traitored cloth

Climbing like a monkey to reach the top of the stairs

Lift broken down

Get into the car, Oaks

And under the concrete with the cement

Go home quickly

Because we have no ideas

And in discos chatting up girls

Dropping gin

Slurring stupid words

And nicotine fingers reaching out

Go home and listen to your crackling needle records

And stained sleeves

Put it all into unfocused clarity

Estates all over London

Full of despair and violence

Loud radios are settling our nerves

As we look to get back into tune to

The chords we sing and cry all night

And in the morning it starts again

And again and again

Makes the guitar snap all through pissed off slumber

Your body is getting colder

Has no more purpose

Lost, nowhere to go

Like when they chucked you out of school

And made you walk the parks

I wanted to be a monkey

And I ended up a cartoon

We have no ideas

Written by: David Christian

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