Lyrics - Midfielder


A Dream You come when you want, in your own time, come when you choose. Iíll get in some beer, get in some wine, get in some food. We can talk all day - it wonít matter whatever we say. You can come round this evening, Iíll open the wine, let it start breathing. I can picture it allÖ We can talk all night about anything that you like. I believe that dreams can come true - they often do and just being with you would be fine in the meantime. Itís a white knuckle ride this trying to decide what clothes to wear. But hey! I donít care anymore. ĎCause I know you wonít mind any more than I will mind. I know that jeans will do, and a t-shirt blue. Youíll be dressed as you and youíll come at the right time. Dreams come true - Nightmares too and this boy could do with a laugh with you sometime. So you come when you can, I will be in, Iíve no other plan.

The Luddites are Calling Donít want Broadband, donít want the Internet. Donít want wide screen, canít use Ceefax yet. Megabytes and microchips, inventions for the sake of it. The Luddites are calling, the Luddites are calling you. The Luddites are calling but you canít hear, reception is too bad. Never wanted a patio or crazy paving. Never wanted stone cladding or double glazing. Donít want call centres or mobile phones, climate change and holey ozone. The Luddites are calling, the Luddites are calling you. The Luddites are calling but you canít hear, reception is too bad. Put a spanner in the works, invent a robot that walks and talks, patent it for future fame. Machines are revolting, General Ludd is sulking, taking stock and smashing frames. History repeats itself again. ďHello is Ned there? Ned Ludd? Hello! Can you hear me?Ē All stand up for General Ludd! All stand up for General Ludd! Technological innovations, automated automatons, post industrial legislation, centralised globalisation, instant credit for homeowner loans, capitalist drones and human clones. The Luddites are calling, the Luddites are calling you. The Luddites are calling but you canít hear, reception is too bad. The Luddites are calling from out of time, interference on the line. The Luddites are calling youÖ All stand up for General Ludd! All stand up for General Ludd!

Donít Forget Iíve been waiting a while now for you to return. My eyes arenít watering and my ears donít burn. You seem to forget that Iíve forgotten you. Given time I suppose you will forget that too. The waitingís the hardest part and just thinking what you do. I wonít shed a tear and I wonít waste my time. Iím not standing here hoping you come back to me. Selected amnesia, a wise decision to make. If sleep comes so easy to you how come youíre wide-awake? I remember the hardest part Ė knowing your mistake. I wonít shed a tear and I wonít waste my time. If you dare to come near Iíll pretend I am blind. So if you change your idea, donít forget - youíve forgotten me. I remember the hardest part Ė deciding you are weak. I wonít shed a tear. I wonít waste my time. Iím not standing here wishing that you were mine. If you dare to come near Iíll pretend I am blind. So if you change your idea, donít forget - youíve forgotten me.

Feather Duster and a Bucket of Sand Sheís got a crazy quilt bouquet. Her hands are tied - she seems to like it that way. Her pride is kept inside a box. She likes to take her father out for walks. She only says one thing that I can understand - you need a feather duster and a bucket of sand. Her hair changes everyday. Her clothes are picked from different shades of grey. I sometimes see her on the train platform - sheís waiting for her mother to come. She says when all the space ships land - youíll need a feather duster and a bucket of sand. See her playing on the slides - round and round she goes on the rides. She insists that sheís a Methodist. Church of England, Catholic, Atheist. She says all you need to comprehend Godís plans is a feather duster and a bucket of sand. She insists that sheís a fatalist. Neurotic, obsessive, psychologist. Sister Susan likes to ride about. Spouting how the truth will always out. Her soul is kept inside somebodyís heart. Her mind and body kept apart. She says when you find youíre not in demand - youíll need a feather duster and a bucket of sand. She says when everything gets out of hand - youíll need a feather duster and a bucket of sand.

Anglepoise Why do you begin with Y? Anglepoise. I donít know why why begins with W. Anglepoise. Uncle Sam. Union Jack. Granny Smith. Plastic Mac. Anglepoise. Do I have to spell it out for you? I T O U T F O R Y O U. Anglepoise. Is an orange called an orange because itís orange? Anglepoise. Where do we come from? Where do we go? What do we do here? Anglepoise. Oscarís wild. Mervyne peeks. Terry waits. Wayne sleeps. Anglepoise. Do I have to spell it out again? I T O U T A G A I N. Anglepoise.

Dogís Dinner I wrote a song for you, but this isnít it, the one I wrote for you was shit. Far too familiar, not unique, the chorus was limp and weak. I wrote you another, this isnít it either, that one is too clear and precise. Yet too contradictory, too black and too white, youíre either too nasty or too nice. A song needs to have a hook like a story. Like a book it needs a beginning, a middle and an end. Unless we split and bring an end to it, my song stays unfinished, my love undiminished and you get to stay my girlfriend. Because lifeís so short, itís probably better to talk, than keep things locked up in your mind. Itís so useless to have sour grapes and juices, and lately Iíve been stewing in mine. So I get out my pen and try writing again, I pluck at the strings of my heart. I get a good sound and words almost profound but it still lacks the important part. A song needs to have a hook like a story. Like a book it needs a beginning, a middle and an end. Unless we split and bring an end to it, my song stays unfinished, my love undiminished and you get to stay my girlfriend. If you were me you wouldnít worry, youíd just say whatís the hurry? Itís quality that counts not speed. Never mind the quality feel the width, it doesnít matter who youíre with as long as youíre thinking of me. I try a new approach, dig out old songs I wrote, take the best bits from each one. Somehow it never seems to hang together and I feel like a thief and vagabond. I search for inspiration, divine intervention, go down blind alleys and cul-de-sacs. I bet you never thought Iíd ask for guidance from the Lord but I need all the help that I can get. You say Iím out to lunch, things are coming to a crunch, I make a meal out of wordsmithery. Your approach is laissez faire, get your appetite elsewhere as long as you come home to eat with me. Itís easy to write a song but hard to write a good one and not sound like a bedroom beginner. Iíve tried so hard to conceive a masterpiece but all Iíve achieved is this dogís dinner. A song needs to have a hook, like a story. Like a book it needs a beginning, a middle and an end. Unless we split and bring an end to it, my song stays unfinished, my love undiminished and you get to stay my girlfriend. So it looks like youíre still my girlfriend.

You Didnít! I found the needle in the haystack and I passed right through the eye of that needle. I found the four leafed clover - it had henís teeth in the middle. I saw two magpies against the cloudless sky. Jumped over the moon with the pigs that fly. Iím one hell of a lucky guy. Not a dry eye in the house and I think - water everywhere but not a drop to drink. So I splash my face and join the human race - standing on the podium in first place. Itís a competition and itís a game. I canít help it if Iíve won again. Itís free to enter Iím not to blame. They say a change is as good as a rest - well I prefer the rest. What youíve got is as good as it gets and when you put it like that itís a matter of fact. If imitation is the highest form of flattery and sarcasm is the lowest form of wit - then what of your sarcastic imitations and you imitations of being sarcastic? Observers, critics, commentators. Photo fits of imitators. Imageless impersonators. Iíve got my Nikon Nikon Ė got my Minolta. Gonna take your picture when I know I didnít oughta. Not voyeuristic, just observation. Iím snap happy, snap happy, gonna take the rap happy. Everybodyís looking older, everybodyís getting balder. Everybodyís looking fatter, except for those getting thinner. Everybodyís skin is looser, everybodyís getting tighter. Everybodyís getting heavy but me Iím getting lighter. I almost missed the boat (but you didnít), I nearly lost the race (but you didnít). I almost got uptight (but you didnít), I nearly lost my face (but you didnít). I nearly had an affair (but you didnít), I came close to saying goodbye (but you didnít). I tried to make you cry (but you didnít), I wanted to die (but you didnít).

Lavender Girl Thereís a girl I know who works in the city, her days arenít so pretty but she is. Sheís the one, I know. I love the way she jabbers, I want to climb up the ladders in her stockings so. She always looks so happy, even when sheís sad and her life is mean. Humming to herself while the lights turn red and the men in her life turn to green. I wonder if she knows, when she passes by, Iíve got my eye on her and love her so? I wonder where she goes? Up and down the street you can hear her sweetly sing when the wind blows. Her clothes are chosen by the way she feels and what she believes. She wears her dresses right, her colours bright and her heart on her sleeve. I-spy lavender girl. Pie in the sky lavender girl. Passing by lavender girl. Bye bye lavender girl. With a smile that glows, she lights up the room while her sweet perfume just lingers. I donít know if it shows but I go weak when she brushes her cheek with her fingers. Merry dances thrill me and while I twist she dips and twirls. Fleeting glances kill me but I canít stop with all the will in the world - Lavender girl. Sheís so lovely, I go to sleep and wish she were you. Thatís how it should be and what a surprise, I open my eyes and my wish has come true. Hi lavender girl. Sweet shy lavender girl. High fly lavender girl. To die for lavender girl. Happy guy lavender girl. Iím sky-high lavender girl. Do you why lavender girl? ĎCause youíre my lavender girl.

Rock Pooling Letís go rock pooling, acting young and fooling around. Rock hopping, seagull spotting, building in the sand. Drawing pictures, cartoon features, artwork on the beach. Transient sculpture with no future, a timeless masterpiece. Letís go cliff walking, idle talking, making easy plans. A house or two with a perfect view of a sea that understands. All I take is some emotion, sunglasses, suntan lotion. I sit and watch the ocean. Letís go stone skimming, sea breezing, breathing it inside. Letís go dream drifting, mood shifting, following the tide. Enjoying perfect timing, up high the sun is shining, every cloudís a silver lining. Take a look outside now - letís go rock pooling.

Motor Once Motor Twice Motor once motor twice, itís everything I need. Motor once motor twice, so real that it can breathe. I go out in the night and I drive all around. Motor once motor twice keeps me from going underground. Motor once motor twice, three times round the clock. Motor once motor twice, four times round the block. Steering wheel so refined, leather, black and mine. Motor once motor twice, my perfect partner, my fantasy, my vice. Pearlescent paint - double layer, heated seats, CD player, sport suspension - anti-shocking, remote control, central locking. Check out the gear. Check out the car. Check out that we are who we say we are. Motor once motor twice, my thrill seeking machine. Designer trim, alloy wheels, every schoolboysí dream. With the go faster stripes, and the double beam headlights. Double airbag, air conditioned, satellite navigation system. Electric windows, twin exhaust. Child proof locks on all the doors. Immobiliser Ė secure from stealing. Rear wing spoiler, power steering. Check out the gear. Check out the car. Check out that we are who we say we are.



© Crazy Quilt Bouquet


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