Get all 16 The Wind-up Birds releases available on Bandcamp and save 30%.
Includes unlimited streaming via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality downloads of "Pop.Thinking", Bar Sadness (with added RacketBall), Summer Haunts, Desire Paths, The Right, Poor Music, The Gristle, Acting Thick for Money (volume 2), and 8 more.
1. |
Tyre Fire
04:44
|
|||
No one can help when she feels insignificant
She lost some fingers in an industrial accident
She met a man, he was transparent
After a time his eyes did wander
He sidled away, another absconder
He said he was bored, she admired his candour
So won’t you give me summat so I can sleep
‘Cause I don’t know how much longer I can keep this up
All night vigils at the window
I can’t see you through all the smoke though
They kept in touch, the occasional email
He dropped hints about his luck with females
It made him look like an imbecile
After six months he had a change of heart
Wanted to try and go back to the start
Ashamed to say that she just might
So won’t you give me something so I can sleep
‘Cause I don’t know how much longer I can keep this up
All night vigils at the window
I can’t see you through all the smoke though
Yeah, it was a body blow
I can’t see you through all this smoke though
In the end she told him to shove it
(Not in person, she couldn’t face that…)
It felt good but it was fleeting
He would mooch around outside her work
Among her friends it was a standing joke
But to her it wasn’t that funny
So won’t you give me something so I can sleep
‘Cause I don’t know how much longer I can keep this up
All night vigils at the window
I can’t see you through all the smoke though
Yeah, it was a body blow
I can’t see you through all this smoke though
Through the window she can see black smoke
And in the shadows this idiot bloke
In a leather coat outside her work
She used to like the twinkle in his eye
No she can’t think why
He’s like the photo on the cover
Of one of those macho gangster books
And the fact that people find it funny
And are probably speaking behind her back
Makes it almost unbearable
Her privacy is the only thing she has ever valued
And it tires her out
And she can’t sleep
And she varies her route home
And she lingers in the light
And sometimes she’ll stay in when she wants to go out
And sometimes she’ll stay in when she wants to go out
It’s the third day of the tyre fire
“Keep your windows closed”
Is it safe out on the street?
No one really knows
Fire engines dance through a crowded street of clones
Capturing the flames on their camera phones
Calendar and Look North compete for the view
The kids clown in the background like they’re supposed to
Once you’ve seen the smoke you can’t avert your eyes
Cars pull over, gawping in lay-bys
Something ancient stirs in your insides
Primitive man in the cave where he hides
Tears evaporating, pure heat stings your face
Overwhelming helplessness puts you in your place
Your history means nothing
Consumed by the flames
Lightened of your language
Deprived of all your names
|
||||
2. |
||||
I have, it seems, committed a crime
I didn’t cry tears for this country of mine
Some rich blokes in a sporting arena
Got beat by some other blokes, hungrier and leaner
Then a bloke on a bar stool; his life in tatters
Squealing into his pint, as if it all matters
He’s torn off his top so his arms are on view
And his tattoo says, “English, through and through”
All I said was, “I’m not that bothered…”
He leaps from his stool; his mates all hovered
He gives me a potted history then
I show some sense and I fail to correct him
He mentions some wars and some of his heroes
I nod along…they mean nothing to me though
He makes factual errors based on our borders
And he finger-draws a map as they call in last orders
Then he turns his attention to racial matters
To my shames I say nowt ‘cause I think that he’ll twat us
And I head for the door with his voice in my ears
An unbearable echo of his unfounded fears
In my head, a better man than me, by far
Turns on his heels and he steams back to the bar
Drags the man from his barstool by his hair
Pulls him away from his mates with reasonable care
And he finds a quiet corner by the glass bottle bins
And he quietly proceeds to explain a few things
Such as: the borders of England adapting through time
And the invading forces that diluted his bloodline
And the noblemen’s deals to pay off their debts
That lead in to decisions affecting us yet
And the rich men laughing at his patriotism
That keeps him hemmed in, as sure as a prison
Then look into the future; his dreams are a mess
Like any invention overtaken by progress
A relic from the past, hidden from view
His England evolved into something brand new
|
The Wind-up Birds Leeds
New EP - "Pop. Thinking" is out now.
More gigs on the way as well.
Streaming and Download help
If you like The Wind-up Birds, you may also like:
Bandcamp Daily your guide to the world of Bandcamp