album cover
Pockets
509
Alternative
Utwór Pockets został wydany 1 stycznia 1998 przez EMI jako część albumu Quench
album cover
AlbumQuench
Data wydania1 stycznia 1998
WytwórniaEMI
Melodyjność
Akustyczność
Valence
Taneczność
Energia
BPM85

Kredyty

PERFORMING ARTISTS
The Beautiful South
The Beautiful South
Performer
Jacqui Abbott
Jacqui Abbott
Vocals
Damon Butcher
Damon Butcher
Keyboards
Simon Clarke
Simon Clarke
Saxophone
David Hemingway
David Hemingway
Vocals
Roddy Lorimer
Roddy Lorimer
Trumpet
David Rotheray
David Rotheray
Guitar
Tim Sanders
Tim Sanders
Saxophone
David Stead
David Stead
Drums
Sean Welch
Sean Welch
Bass Guitar
Annie Whitehead
Annie Whitehead
Trombone
Samantha Smith
Samantha Smith
Background Vocals
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Paul Heaton
Paul Heaton
Composer
Dave Rotheray
Dave Rotheray
Composer
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Jon Kelly
Jon Kelly
Producer
Paul Heaton
Paul Heaton
Producer
John Brough
John Brough
Mixing Engineer

Tekst Utworu

Here comes Pockets
His trousers hold a thousand deadly sins
The maddest things we ever found in bins
He clutches them and looks at you and grins
Here comes Pockets
The children wary of what they may contain
The linen may have changed, the contents same
A trouser-treasure island with no name
And socially at the platform that the timetable forgot
Picking up used tickets in a station of have-nots
When you're on that train of thought you pass some pretty funky stops
When you're on that train of thought you pass some pretty funky stops
That's the Pocket, let him be
That's the Pocket, let him be...
Here comes Pockets
Picking up the things we cannot see
A bicycle, a dame, a Christmas tree
Things of no value to you or me
Here comes the Pocket
Reduced through history to just a crawl
History turns the tall into the small
But natural born trawlers love to trawl
And the guitar of his dreams hangs upon some wall
Or laying underneath the staircase in a hall
We can carry dreams but we can't hold them all
That's why we learn the Blues before we actually fall
That's the Pocket, let him be
That's the Pocket, let him be...
And he's clinging on to hope
Like the oak tree to the gale
Cause finding one love letter
In a sky high jumble sale
Is one single reason
Why the Pocket will not fail...
Written by: Dave Rotheray, Paul Heaton
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