| SCRAPE AWAY — Paul Weller
|
| Your twisted cynicism — makes me feel sick —
|
| Your open disgust for 'idealistic naive'
|
| You’ve given up hope — you’re jaded and ill
|
| The trouble is your thoughts a catching disease.
|
| Oh — you need to get away
|
| Oh — you need a change of pace
|
| Because you’re all dried up and you don’t believe
|
| You reckon I’m dreaming when I say I still feel real,
|
| You say you work for yourself and it’s the only way
|
| But I look at you talking and to me you just scrape away —
|
| What makes once young minds get in this state,
|
| Is it age or just the social climate?
|
| You’re talking like some fucking hardened MP
|
| You’re saying power’s all
|
| And it’s power you NEED!
|
| Oh — you need to get away
|
| Oh — you need a change of pace
|
| Because you’ve given up on hope —
|
| You’re emotionless —
|
| You’ve no need for love it’s just hate, hate, hate.
|
| But I look at you shaking and it is you —
|
| Who is scraping away.
|
| You who is scraping away.
|
| SMITHER-JONES — Bruce Foxton
|
| Here we go again, it’s Monday at last,
|
| He’s heading for the Waterloo line.
|
| To catch the 8am fast, its usually dead on time,
|
| Hope it isn’t late, got to be there by nine.
|
| Pin stripe suit, clean shirt and tie,
|
| Stops off at the corner shop, to buy The Times
|
| 'Good Morning Smithers-Jones'
|
| 'How's the wife and home?'
|
| 'Did you get the car you’ve been looking for?'(repeat)
|
| Let me get inside, let me take control of you,
|
| We could have some good times,
|
| All this worry will get you down,
|
| I’ll give you a new meaning to life — I don’t think so.
|
| Sitting on the train, you’re nearly there
|
| You’re a part of the production line,
|
| You’re the same as him, you’re like tin-sardines,
|
| Get out of the pack, before they peel you back.
|
| Arrive at the office, spot on time,
|
| The clock on the wall hasn’t yet struck nine.
|
| 'Good Morning Smithers-Jones',
|
| 'The boss wants to see you alone'.
|
| 'I hope its the promotion you’ve been looking for'(repeat)
|
| 'Come in Smithers old boy'
|
| 'Take a seat, take the weight off your feet'.
|
| 'I've some news to tell you'
|
| 'There's no longer a position for you'-
|
| 'Sorry Smithers-Jones'.
|
| Put on the kettle to make some tea
|
| It’s all a part of feeling groovy
|
| Put on your slippers turn on the TV
|
| It’s all a part of feeling groovy
|
| It’s time to relax now you’ve worked your arse off
|
| But the only one smilin’is the sun tanned boss
|
| Work and work and work and work til you die
|
| Cause there’s plenty more fish in the sea to fry.
|
| LITTLE BOY SOLDIERS — Paul Weller
|
| Its funny how you never knew what my name was,
|
| Our only contact was a form for the election.
|
| These days I find that you don’t listen,
|
| These days I find that we’re out of touch,
|
| These days I find that I’m too busy,
|
| So why the attention now you want my assistance —
|
| what have you done for me?
|
| You’ve gone and got yourself in trouble,
|
| Now you want me to help you out.
|
| These days I find that I can’t be bothered,
|
| These days I find that its all too much,
|
| To pick up a gun and shoot a stranger,
|
| But I’ve got no choice so here I come — war games.
|
| I’m up on the hills playing little boy soldiers,
|
| Reconnaissance duty up at 5:30.
|
| Shoot shoot shoot and kill the natives,
|
| You’re one of us and we love you for that.
|
| Think of honour, Queen and country.
|
| You’re a blessed son of the British Empire,
|
| God’s on our side and so is Washington.
|
| Come out on the hills with the little boy soldiers.
|
| Come on outside — I’ll sing you a lullabye,
|
| And tell the tale of how goodness prevailed.
|
| We ruled the world — we killed and robbed,
|
| The fucking lot — but we don’t feel bad.
|
| It was done beneathe the flag of democracy,
|
| You’ll believe — and I do, yes I do — yes I do —
|
| Yes I do —
|
| These days I find that I can’t be bothered,
|
| To argue with them — well, what’s the point?
|
| Better to take your shots and drop down dead,
|
| then they send you home in a pine overcoat.
|
| With a letter to your mum
|
| Saying 'find enclosed one son, one medal'- and a note to say he won. |