Time To Move

Been digging around some of my old music stuff today, and ended up trawling through a big stack of lyrics. Its always interesting when you find old lyrics you've written, and are vaguely embarrassed by them - not that they're necessarily better or worse than any of the recent stuff you've done. Although I'm not sure. It takes you by surprise when you have absolutely no memory of writing them. Quite enjoyed this one I'd titled 'Time To Move'. It took me a couple of read-through's to realise I'd tried to write this one to the tune of an old Bob Dylan song, during his psychedelic electric period. I remember totally wanting to be Bob Dylan at this point, now I want totally want to be Joe Strummer. Maybe one day I'll totally want to be me!


Here's Dylan's version;
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=q5fPWzcik2s


And here's my words to it;


"Well I wake up in the morning, hold out my hand and feel for rain,
There's a man outside my window and he's driving me insane,
He's singing Lily Allen songs while wearing a bowler hat,
Says he's the ghost of Charlie Chaplin, I say 'What kind of excuse for waking me up is that?'


I head out down the road, I see a stranger on my street,
He wanders over to me and kneels down to kiss my feet,
'Stop what you're doing!', I snap, 'Don't you know who I am?'
He says 'No', I say, 'I'm nothin'', he says, 'How do you know that man?'


Next I walk around the corner, knock the postman off his bike,
I'm kind - I help him up - but i'll tell you what a sight,
He had lipstick on his face and high heels on his feet,
A feather boa round his neck, and a pink cushion taped to his bicycle seat.


I ask him, 'Why you dressed like that?', trying not to smile,
He says, 'Whats up with you, man? Don't you dig my style?',
'That ain't my problem', I reply, 'I'm just worried about my post',
'It can't be easy making your rounds when you're cycling in stilettos'.


Further on I see Nick Griffin on a wall, blowing up a pink balloon,
For John Wayne and Howard Hawks who are watching High Noon,
The Pope's in the sex shop, he's getting undressed,
While the Chinese President's handing out leaflets saying, 'Let's free Tibet'.


I walk back home I'm as hungry as can be, 
My maid lays a lemon down in front of me,
'It looks kinda bitter', I guess, staring at my plate,
And throw it out the window, it was the worst meal I ever ate.


Pacing round the lawn and to my surprise,
I'm wrestled to the ground by a woman twice my size,
She say's 'I'll bake you a cake if you help me make some kids',
I groan a moan, I know I'm too hungry to give it a miss.


The evening was bright, the sky a golden splendour,
As my lady and I sit down to watch Eastenders,
I live in a strange little town, I think I have just proved,
I'll sit down and eat my cake, then I think it's Time To Move"


To be honest I found little else in my stack of lyrics worth posting here! Off to see The Revival Tour in Portsmouth tonight, should be a good gig.