See the head bowed See the furrowed brow Hear the boys cry See the haunted eyes See the fingertips See the fingertips Blood for pop Blood for pop Wind it tighter Pay the piper Call it heartfelt Feel the hearts melt See the fingertips See the fingertips Blood for pop Blood for pop Track and feel Two inch reel (too real) We’re all needing To see you bleeding Don’t stop Don’t stop Blood for pop Blood for pop

Die bad, go rotten All of your sins will still be forgotten I can guarantee you there’s no one keeping score. Die good, decompose Sorry, that’s just the way that it goes All that trouble you went to, what was it for? The end is the end, When there’s no time to mend The damage that you’ve done I tell you, my friend We’re all going to end up As atoms in the sun’s supernova Die rich, go up in flames Your children live on with double-barrelled names But it’s still eight hundred degrees behind the door Die poor and neglected You’ll be reduced to ashes collected And thrown away one day, that’s for sure The end is the end… Whether we take our holy communion With EFTA, NAFTA or the European Union One day we won’t be an island any more Atlantis rises, Europe sinks The North Sea turns into a skating rink If we’re up a mountain or down on the sea floor The end’s still the end, There’s no time to mend The damage that we’ve done I tell you, my friend We’re all going to end up As atoms in the sun’s supernova

Generations! generations? There’s only one that counts When they talk about generations You know that means ours And everyone agrees that everyone agrees That no one disagrees that no one disagrees That there’s no doubt And it’s all in sixties stereo (That’s how we like it) Sixties stereo (Close mike it) Sixties stereo (Double track it) Now! Making sense of experience I think we’ve found a vein Don’t take chances, build a fence We won’t get fooled again And everyone agrees that everyone agrees That no one disagrees That no one disagrees That there’s no doubt And it’s all in sixties stereo (New religions) Sixties stereo (New positions) Sixties stereo (Unconditional love) Now we’ve climbed the ladders All except the ones who haven’t And we’re burning them behind us And they’re burning them in front And we’re all in, And we’re all in, And we’re all in, Administration, investigation We don’t know what to believe Integration, communication And now we’re going to leave And we all disagree that we all disagree That everyone agrees that everyone agrees That there’s no doubt And it’s all in sixties stereo (Activism) Sixties stereo (Pacifism) Sixties stereo (Have a schism) Now! Sixties stereo (Yoko Ono) Sixties stereo (Sonny Bono) Sixties stereo (Back to mono) Now! intro: G11, C, E7, F, G7 C, F, E7 verse: A, F#m, Bm, E7 A, F#m, Bm, E7… A, D, A pre-ch: Dm, G11, Dm, G11, G7 ch: C, E7, F, G7 middle: Cm, Gm, Cm, Gm, G11, G7

Bury me or fire me from a gun Take my ashes and fly them into the sun Take my guitar to the auction room There’s a memorabilia sale coming soon Collect what’s left and put it in a box Shed a tear if you like, and make sure nothing’s lost Nothing’s lost Nothing’s ever lost Afternoon on Radio TFM Time to fill between news and advertisements Cue up number something from the list Jog someone’s memory, clear the mist But didn’t I just play this yesterday And the day before and then tomorrow, come what may Come what may Tomorrow, come what may Heart attacks and ODs Plane crashes and STDs Choking, drowning and killer bees None of these can stop me I’m an animated hologram With all my original backing band We’re on tour up and down the land Clap your hands and love me Make a film about me, narrated by Rebecca Front or Liam Neeson… Stephen Fry? I’m dying to be famous once again Put me on a bank note, I’m a dead white man Put all my old demos on CD Video my children crying on TV Crying on TV Pretending they miss me Heart attacks and ODs… I’ve had my fifteen minutes Now I want fifteen more Fill your heads with memories That just seem to endure Then ask me why there’s no forgotten classics any more Heart attacks and ODs Rabies, scabies, TB Mad cow disease None of these can stop me I’m an animated hologram With all my original backing band We’re on tour up and down the land Clap your hands and love me

Have you felt Nibiru coming nearer? No you haven’t, it’s just the drugs I’m the manifestation of Shiva No you're not, it’s just the drugs In a past life I was a tribal elder No you weren’t, it’s just the drugs The pain of the world rests on my shoulders No it doesn’t, it’s just the drugs It’s just the drugs Paul McCartney is a stand-in No he’s not, it’s just the drugs Same goes for Hilary Clinton No it doesn’t, it’s just the drugs Angela Merkel is a lizard No she’s not, it’s just the drugs The truth is out there… is it? Errrrrrm.… it’s just the drugs It’s just the drugs They’re poisoning us with vaccines No they’re not, it’s just the drugs Dropping chemical trails out of aeroplanes Nope, it’s just the drugs Fluoridisation is mind control No it’s not, it’s just the drugs They're giving us drugs to make us docile If you like, but it’s just the drugs It’s just the drugs I can feel quantum energies No you can’t, it’s just the drugs Blah blah blah Jewish conspiracies Fuck off, it’s just the drugs Humans are genetically engineered No we’re not, it’s just the drugs We all need to live in fear No we don’t, it’s just the drugs It’s just the drugs They’re breeding out the white race No they’re not, it’s just the drugs Illuminati and the deep state False flags, it’s just the drugs That screaming child is a crisis actor No she’s not, it’s just the drugs When did you become such a heartless bastard? I hope it’s just the drugs It’s just the drugs

It’s in the way the old man walks, Stiff around the hip, With a roll of the shoulder Every other step, And on lips that blew ten thousand nights with an eight-piece band, There’s half a smile that says: “I’ll keep going, more or less Until the hourglass runs out of sand.” It’s in the whip of the wind On a warm spring night. It’s in the winning of the war It’s in the one left to fight. It's in jumping up on the back of a barrow, playing Run Rabbit Run. That way and this, The conga lines twist. Don’t stop until you see the sun Snap of the fingers, click of the heels. King of the swingers, Bold Grenadier. Hip to Mingus, Monk and Miles. It boils down to the blues, It’s a feeling, not just a style. It’s in the glance at the script, The glasses on the head. The chauffeur-driven car, Pushed-together single beds. It’s wondering if this is all as stupid as it seems Blue jokes and blue notes For worn-out old folks... … Let’s meet the teams. Old man walk, old man walk.

Wanda Wanda, picking up the pieces G Wanda Wanda, singing for Jesus A Wanda please, give us one night of rock’n’roll G A D Old time gospel in a jamboree tent Back home on the bus with the money all spent Songs to the Lord won’t get her out of this hole Oklahoma’s home but it’s so damned cold Wanda Wanda, picking up the pieces Wanda Wanda, singing for Jesus Wanda please, give us one night of rock’n’roll The boys in the band all think that it’s funny D But all they ever think about is sex and money A The path into heaven can’t be bought or sold D but we’ve all got a price on our soul D7 Wanda Wanda, picking up the pieces Wanda Wanda, singing for Jesus Wanda please, give us one night of rock’n’roll (guitar) D G A boogie All you ever want to ask is “What about Elvis?” A7 Listen here, don’t you know I’m somebody too D7 If you think that I’ve got something to confess A7 I’ll do it any time, anywhere, to anyone but you D7 A7 London, Berlin, Rome and Yokohama Hard Headed Woman singing Fujiyama Mama Angel to the left, Devil to the right Get yourselves together and dance all night

If the Russians had won the cold war There’d be peace throughout the land There would be no austerity Just a glorious five year plan All the bankers would be miners And profits/prophets would be banned If the Russians had won If the Russians had won Friday night in the union hall You might cast a glance at me And I might be looking your way There’s just a chance our eyes would meet The red flag would fly above us There’d be the sound of marching feet If the Russians had won... We’d gather in the market square Men and women, girls and boys From speakers tied to lamp posts We’d hear the leader’s voice Telling of great victories And we’d all damned well rejoice If the Russians had won If the Russians had won If the Russians had won the cold war I’d have asked you to marry me We’d honeymoon in a cold grey room In a hotel by the sea And one day I’d tell our children About the way it used to be Before the Russians won If the Russians had won If the Russians had won

I was walking down the High Street Minding my own I was wearing my stetson ‘Cause of the midday sun Somebody started laughing Saying: “Hey, look at that. He must be a cowboy Cause he’s in a cowboy hat.” Now if I’d had a six-gun I might have told him: “Draw.” Or I could have ridden off But I don’t have a horse Snakeskin boots, leather chaps Or a lash lariat. Don't call me a cowboy Just because I wear a hat Don’t put me in the saddle To ride out on the range I don’t want to live on whisky and bacon and beans The frontier’s not the kind of place Where I want to be at Don't call me a cowboy Just because I wear a hat Don’t call me a hangman Just because I’ve got a rope Don’t call me an scientist It’s just a microscope I’m not a priest, a politician Nor an aristocrat And don't call me a cowboy Just because I wear a hat I’m not from Oklahoma Abilene or Great Bend I’m not from the state of Texas Down by the Rio Grande I’m not even American Let me tell you flat Don't call me a cowboy Just because I wear a hat Don’t put me in the saddle To ride out on the range I don’t want to live on whisky and bacon and beans The frontier’s not the kind of place Where I want to be at Don't call me a cowboy Just because I wear a hat The flies are all buzzing There’s dust on the trail Got my head down, listening For the rattle on the rail I’m dozing in the sun Like a calico cat But don’t call me a cowboy Just because I wear a hat Meanwhile in the old town We’re waiting on a train Tumbleweeds are tumbling The preacher prays for rain The sun’s burning down Casting shadows so black The place is full of cowboys And they’re all in cowboy hats Don’t put me in the saddle To ride out on the range I don’t want to live on whisky and bacon and beans The frontier’s not the kind of place Where I want to be at Don't call me a cowboy Just because I wear a hat

instrumental

Across the new estate, I can go anywhere Climb the garden gate, I need to show off my new long hair Grown like a willow, tied up in a school tie Like a tennis player or an Indian It was better before they dug in the trees Better when you could feel the breeze from the sea Better when the beck was flowing high after the rain Better before the diggers came To finish the job, please don’t finish the job I like it the way it is Over the wall into the delivery yard Line up beneath the lights, trying to look hard Pick sides for the fight, hoping you’re not the last ‘Cause I don’t think I can run that fast The bridge sounds like tin cans at the cricket Alone at night, I can still hear it Donkeys waking up in the field behind the hotel It’s four AM and the diggers have come To finish the job, please don’t finish the job I like it the way it is When the wasteland’s gone there’ll be nowhere to go Nowhere to think, nowhere for the beck to flow they’ll cover it up, turn it into a drain What about the sticklebacks? The rattling bridge left over from the war Doesn’t move when you drive over it any more The dunes don’t crumble underneath the road It’s just a path and they’ve let it go When you leave it all starts to make sense It was always just a work in progress This never was going to be the last road in town It just happened to be, when I was around And the donkey field is a car park now Except it’s not because the cinema’s shut down And the bowling alley and the new café Brambles are growing through the tarmac To finish the job…