Can you hear me in the Marquee Hotel? Where you standing looking like Oliver’s soldiers In the hollow alleyway down the side near the church You chase your goddamn dreams down You were working on some words Like “help me saviour I’m scratching at the walls” We look like shit and we march like saints In the glow of the ancient city gates It’s hard to be out on cattle Market Street so late And the darkness of the night is swallowed by your pupils And I still love you Like I always did but I can feel it coming on I’m lost to the lights in your halls Where you said we couldn’t smoke Because it would off the fire alarms Soon we’d be outside freezing in our T-shirts

CM Punk is right. What am I doing with my life? If I ever wake up feeling this shitty again I'll fucking cry. I threw up in the sink while you were shotgunning to Blink. I think I browned out, I don't know much but I know it's Joe that stinks. We spent 9 hours on the 85 and I'm not sure we made it there alive and if I ever see this town again it better be with my best friends. It's happening again, just want to hang out with my friends. But now I wanna die, we drank our whole supply and we smoked until the end. When does this party stop? I think I've had about enough. My insides hurt, I've got a half soaked shirt. 'Cause self control is tough. She said "I could ring some friends and try and fill this room out" We said "Fuck off, let's not pretend, we'll just hang out with ourselves

I get it, life's too long to spend on anybody and too short to sit still so why don't we just take it as it comes? Bachelor talk on the town as we discuss our sexual letdowns. "She's so lifeless she could have been the working week" he said and sipped his tiger. I countered "You're a poet sir" but without a smile cause I'm so tired. He likes to sample every art form, just like he doesn't have a girlfriend. But I know, I'm sad to say, more than one or two who thought that they were more than just a seven day distraction and that's always sad to see. You're moving north before the new year if that isn't just an idea with your mouth open. This town won't be the same without your poetry and your every-night's-a-date-night-here mentality, but I guess we'll soldier on.

I could just hibernate. I could wait ‘til spring. I could write off this season and focus on survival. Curl up in ball and wait until everybody I care about forgets about me. These nights are getting longer in all the wrong places and I’m getting cold. Tell my family and friends they won’t be seeing me again. I might not make it through this winter. This artificial heat makes my skin itchy. This bitter wind just makes my body ache. I wrote a list of all the things I know I need to do. It isn’t shortening this week. I spend the best days of my life biding my time for half the year. And in the new year I’ll make these promises, to stop making promises that I won’t keep. But then spring will be here and it’s so nice outside. There’s so much to keep a boy distracted.

How can you stand and face these things well I'm just bored beyond belief put the keys back in I'll just wait right here and take some time to think Moving forward never meant that much to me cut the heels tell me how it feels to live with this defeat Well I've seen this place before 'til now its never hurt me more can your intentions find another place to hide or will you nail it to your door Lost emotions can you make it back again follow suit with another group you've got them in your hands CAN YOU WAIT!

theres nothing you can say, to make this go away so dont deny it..... we both lived this lie , its time to let it die but you dont get it...... we trusted in every word said we beleived it that everything was fine it was crumbeling apart right from the start we just held on the light at the end only got more dim untill there was darkness we trusted in every word said we beleived it that everything was fine we trusted in every word said we beleived it that everything was fine

I'm feeling used again. Stripped down to the bare bones that the womb I grew in gave to me. The usual. I was born free, wild, avian, and tropical. What's this? I feel sick again. Stepped on like a ladder. I'm feeling sick again. Singed up in the gangrene gills the stream I swam in bled for me. Unusual. For every breath I take, take two of them away from me. I built this bridge and I'll burn it down. I was here before you. I'll be here long after you. I don't wanna die, I don't want to die.

Another glimpse through the unknown, perhaps a glimmer of hope? And as we search through our ideals we realise that there’s not as much as we would’ve thought. Who are we kidding, ourselves? This isn’t solace, this is suicide. Reviewing all that we are has left us cowering and what, just for a song? You might think that I’m joking, well I’m not, and I swear that it rips me apart. My conscience is bleeding. I don’t have the heart. Another trick up my sleeve, I’ll show them all how it’s done and when if they see my most vulnerable side I’ll laugh it off: “it’s just fun”. I’ve always tried to be as open and honest as possible in the songs that I write; more so than I ever would be in a conversation with anyone. Sometimes if feels like you’re ripping yourself open for other people to observe; perhaps the only thing that’s worse than that is the thought nobody will care.

Give me something I can touch I can hold, the places we’ve been and the people we know. Hold out for smiles don’t linger with regret, familiar faces, familiar ends, Is it getting old? How did you know that we’d end up like this? And why don’t you care that it’s not making sense? So if only you could feel like you owe me instead of defending a “never” pretence. Just when I thought you were coming round you change your shape to fit their mould, it’s getting old. So when the water rises above our necks, give us strength with a hard hit. My friend I’m not ready to sink just yet, but when I am, can we sink along to this. (When I am can we sink along to this?)

I’ve been dreaming of sex, drugs and violent retribution, of sound and noise pollution, the forgotten revolution I’m not singing a solution I’m just trying to get something done. These are songs about my friends and times they were few, songs about the future and of course a line or two for each of you. And I miss dying, coughing up blood and flying and if you stay sane with both feet on the floor, why were you always kicking up dust for? And I don’t want to work no more, I’m going to make you so proud of me. I hope we live on through postcodes cause only knows where next I’ll go but I’ll always sing for people who will not arrest me and girls that I barely know. And I’ve been looking up, not much but it’s enough. There’s hope in homelessness home in being hopeless and the winds fly in from the coast remind us to make the most of every chance we get to dance with ghosts of alphabets. And as he wrapped his hands are my neck all I could see was you touch his leg, but neither makes me all that eager cause it won’t be long til my body is gone. When men get older they laugh less, even dogs wag their tales when they’re close to death. But I’m going down with my hands by my sides, eyes open wide with a puppy dog smile. And we’re not all that fast but what we lack in speed we make up for in complete disregard for sleep.

I woke up in the middle of the night, in a cold sweat and my chest felt tight. My hands were numb and I couldn't see. There were so many things that frightened me Sometimes I'd feel a body next to me like an amputee feels a phantom limb My lonelyness was completely self inflicted and I wouldn't let anybody in. I ended up where I didn't wanna be. I'd take a place in the next body I'd see.

So you carry these burdens because they were carrying burdens for, It wasn't the intention, It wasn't what was meant for you, So your going down wth the wreckage of a sinking ship, Even though the captain ordered you abandon it. You're young and you're free and you could be what you wanted to be, Or you could grow tired, old, cold, hollow bitter and lonely, You're young and you're free and you could be what you wanted to be, I promise man, one day, you'll get tired of running. So I know things lately have been really hard, for you, If there's a light at the end of this tunnel then it's too far, for you. So your going down wth the wreckage of a sinking ship, Even though the captain ordered you abandon it. You're young and you're free and you could be what you wanted to be, Or you could grow tired, old, cold, hollow bitter and lonely, You're young and you're free and you could be what you wanted to be, I promise man, one day, you'll get tired of running. The past is short, and the future's long man, don't get caught, don't get wrong man, because the past is short You're young and you're free and you could be what you wanted to be, Or you could grow tired, old, cold, hollow bitter and lonely, You're young and you're free and you could be what you wanted to be, I promise man, one day, you'll get tired of running. So you're going down with the wreckage of a sinking ship, Do you think you're going to get a medal for it?

When I sleep on the sofa tonight, I'll make sure my phone will be on top of the pile of my clothes on the left of me, 'cos then you'll be close. It's been a month today since you told me you liked how I am after I stood behind you at a show in Kingston. I thought you were joking. I'm hungover from the past six months coughing shit from my lungs and waking up on the tube at 2pm with nothing to do. I'm scratching the plaque from my teeth, drinking cider in the morning but you're still up for sitting next to me and getting high. "I'm not ready for some burned out bridge just yet", I've got a lot to say and you've got to forget what I forgot and you can tell your best friend all the things I say to try to shake you like you've shaken me. I'll give you that. I listened to 'Everything Sucks' with you and promised to never give up, you're too fun. Yeah, you're too good. Let me be your release from all this bullshit around us, don't shut me out. But you say it can't be this way, but what's to say. At least we're still talking, at least we're alive. "I'm not ready for some burned out bridge just yet". I'm not looking for attention, I'm just trying to make something from this connection.

I learnt how to undo, cut and paste and copy you It's strange how we get so degraded, after a week or two When all I really want to do is maybe play Nintendo games with you Though thats a lot of work for us Now that our brains aren't febrile Its a lonely planet we walk on A rough guide to follow Species extinction and lead user surveys Arab detention, hydroelectrics Look out a window, a blogosphere girlfriend Information I cant use, though my brain is not Staid, its stayed the same And though I will not be there in person I will try to instill and answer your main questions We'll get through, though there is this feeling in my guts, that we'll do it the wrong way wrong Do you know I lack some basic reasoning I'll outline all the threats Using a lasso tool Select, put in the bin, unkown to anyone I didn't, I mean I will Go through with it And if I don't I'll need you all the time

1936, Europe’s facing fascists. England has Mosley and his black shirted army. A provocative march through Jewish east London Protected by police, defied by the population. We believe in equality, every man is free... marching as we sing old songs. "We'll hang Oswald Mosley on a sour apple tree... when the red revolution comes". "I was moved to tears to see bearded Jews and Irish Catholic dock workers, standing up together against the hated black shirts. I shall never forget that as long as I live, How working-class people could get together to oppose the evil of racism."

I know that you are somewhere smoking the night’s last cigarette and that you’re not here making warm spots in my bed. Did you spend your evenings out having fun? Have you lost all feeling about your teeth and gums? Oh there’s simple things that I’ll tell you but they’re way harder done than said so just listen girl it’s time you stop being. Well I know that there are so many things that you don’t want to admit like how you’re getting older and maybe it’s time for you to take some next step. But you’re too afraid to love because your daddy never did. And your mom’s been married three or four times and it’s making you fucking sick. I’m sorry but I don’t have an answer for you you see I’ve not been so good myself these days. But it makes me sad when I come see you with your dark eyes looking flat and I can tell the night you’ve had.

We have nothing to loose but our chains, and i feel, an endless train of cash boxes and heavy purses wrought in steel. Like Jacob Marley dragging his I'm a weary captive, bound. Mine tie me to a student loan and every rare LP I've ever found. I'm just another naive prole, with revolution of the mind, but I'd fight a line of riot police if it'd help to clear the sky. I'm not looking for an answer, to some big scary question. A missing link to clarify it all. We take each second as it comes and every now and then some light shines down on us. Enjoy those moments in the sun. We know Marley died a rich but lonely man and yet, its a very simple lesson we keep learning to forget, a Dickensian analogy spun out into a song, Melancholia and Marxism, this must be where I belong. I'm just another lonesome fool, with revolution on the brain, but I'd bomb the royal bank if it'd blow the clouds away. I built a shield to block the sky, swathed in shade I shut my eyes, I wish that I had tried to take my own advice. Look up and let yourself be blinded (I wish that I had tried to take my own advice)

Talking small stories about our day, I guess we never knew it any other way. As if that's all we had to catch up on, as if we still thought about where we came from. "I'll scratch your back if you scratch mine first" but I'll be out of the door before you take off your shirt. People still try and justify while I sit here and waste away my life. I'll throw around excuses, like "you know that I've been busy". To all the friends I never see in this small city... "Hey Rory! How's it going? How's the music?" We used to chat for hours, but this small talk makes me sick. If someone mentions the weather, I'm gonna lose it. And all my friends can remember me as a prick. I'm glad that you don't know the truth, because I swear that it ain't pretty. To all the friends I never see, I'm sorry.

It's a sliding scale from tapping your feet to rocking out; from those who choose to whisper, to those choosing to scream and shout Rich tapestry to patchwork city, to scattered rags all torn and shitty The seamstress works long into the night, red eyes under bright fluorescent lights Forgiveness or retribution, a birds eye view of revolution Tucked safely behind TV screens, comparing everything to western dreams And I've been trying so hard, to come to terms with this rule, but if I had to pick I'd always side with the dancers from Kabul Those born to dance, they're not packing their bags or getting out The drones are lighting fires, smoke out the guards with their protest pyres Once was a right and not a privilege, soon to be labelled sacrilegious A faint shadow of its former self, freedom of speech went rotten on the shelf I've been trying so hard, to come to terms with this rule, but if I had to choose I'd always side with the dancers from Kabul I love the smell of woodsmoke in the morning down in Parliament Square In Cairo, Manama and Tripoli, in spirit I was there.

If i had a drink every time i lied, To the face i loved at the given time i would be.. A better man, If i cupped my hands to hold them out, Would you fill them up or shake you head at me? Well we will see, we will see, Because it all.. It all comes down, to living in a town, Where the best is yet to come my love, Don't frown, we're coming back around. If i held my breath every time i spoke, With the words i write and the hands i choke you with, I'd be ashamed, I'd be ashamed, Because the air i breathe, is just for me, The most selfish thing that i can ever be, Just wait and see, wait and see, Because it all..