![Ballad Of Tindersticks - Tindersticks](https://cdn.muztext.com/i/3284756499743925347.jpg)
Date of issue: 23.06.1997
Record label: The Quicksilver Recording Company
Song language: English
Ballad Of Tindersticks |
The first time we flew it |
It was cheap and cramped |
The vodka running out half-way across the atlantic |
Even the steward screamed and joined in it |
We didn’t think we were going to make it |
Now we’re stretched out in wide, furry seats |
Flicking through menus |
A walk to the bar and there’s as much screw-top champagne as we can drink |
We’re so easy |
Taking turns having our photos taken |
Sitting in front of smoked windows |
Decanters of cheap whiskey in our hands |
Drive into Manhattan on a date with a starlet who’s just talent |
That’s what people pay the money to see? |
Who are we to argue… |
Five hours now it’s been going on |
And still we’re watching all of it |
Can you really believe all this? |
Can he really lie in bed at night and marvel at his own genius? |
When do you lose the ability to step back |
And get a sense of your own ridiculousness? |
They’re only songs |
Midnight, and it’s all over |
Now it can really make us laugh |
We’re standing on our heads drinking sours of crystel schnapps |
Now we’re unable to step back or forward |
Swallowing a swallow |
Tasting it again, it’s not so unpleasant |
Perhaps it’s an acquired taste |
The first time, it makes you sick |
Then, little by little, it becomes delicious |
Showbiz people |
Always there to be interested in what you have to say |
We are artists; |
we are sensitive and important |
We nod our heads earnestly |
Already half-way down the champagne |
On our way to leaving the place dry |
A $ 2,000 bar bill |
Showbiz picks up the tab |
And we’re on our way laughing |
Laughing at what? |
Los Angeles, eight days in |
And our sense of irony’s running pretty thin |
All the friends we’ve made |
It’s 2 am, it’s closing time at the Dresden |
Marty and Layton play one last sleepy «Strangers In The Night» |
And the last of the martinis dribble down our chins |
We’re sitting, chasing the conservation around the table |
Jesus, how long have I been in this state? |
The limousine’s still waiting outside |
Anything you want to do? |
Anywhere you want to go? |
We’re on our way to the airport and a plane to Vegas |
So many nights lying in bed shaking |
Dreaming of pushing my daughter around the supermarket |
The joy of seeing all those colours and shapes reflect in her wide eyes |
My head leaning on the window |
And we’re driving through the empty L.A. streets |
And everything seems silent and beautiful |
A guy’s face hits the floor |
Police revolvers glistening in the streetlight |
Onto melrose and lurching through a sea of halloweeen transvestites |
The flight’s cancelled, but it doesn’t matter |
We turn this corner to a way that takes us wherever |
Up to sunset |
We creep up the drive to the Shattuck |
The suite Belushi died in |
Or the one Morrison hung out the window |
Oh, I’ll go for Jim’s |
I would fancy a hotel window-hanging, myself, tonight, man |
Straight over to the mini-bar |
Open the champagne — one sip and it’s left to wake up to |
Anyone hungry? |
A team of uniformed waiters lay out an elaborate table for all us to ignore |
Oh, the irony |
How we’re used to living |
Back in London on a cold friday night |
Do you want another drink? |
Well, I could try |
Perhaps we could make it to the atlantic |
600 yards, 20 minutes later |
We’re pushing through the waiting crowd, all fish eyes |
An exclusive door policy |
Exclusively for arseholes |
And tonight? |
well, a nod of our heads, and we’re inside |
Falling down the red, velvety stairs |
Limbs flaying, hands searching for something to steady |
Pick ourselves up, nothing broken |
Just aches in the morning |
No one seems to notice |
I find a table, champagne arrives |
I’ve been so drunk, I sit and look at you |
We try and talk for the first time in a long time |
Drunken confession |
You shiver, it made you feel sick |
We use the rent money to pay the bill |
Bumping shoulders, we stumble out into Soho |
Slipping over the sleeping bags |
Shouting for taxis |
Name | Year |
---|---|
Show Me Everything | 2012 |
Tiny Tears | 1995 |
Medicine | 2012 |
Let's Pretend | 1997 |
Another Night In | 1997 |
(Tonight) Are You Trying To Fall In Love Again | 1997 |
Buried Bones ft. Anne Magnusson | 1997 |
Rented Rooms | 1997 |
My Oblivion | 2003 |
My Sister | 1995 |
Running Wild | 2003 |
Travelling Light ft. Carla Torgerson | 1995 |
Jism | 1993 |
Cherry Blossoms | 1995 |
Both Sides of the Blade | 2022 |
This Fire of Autumn | 2012 |
A Night So Still | 2012 |
Marbles | 1993 |
Yesterdays Tomorrows | 2008 |
People Keep Comin' Around | 2001 |