Lyrics - You Never Know


Schitzaphroid Is it the work of a genius or a piece of shit? Does it matter? Is it the work of a genius or a piece of shit? Probably the latter. Is it the work of a genius or a piece of shit? Well, I wouldnít boast. Is it the work of a genius or a piece of shit? Possibly both. Is it the work of a genius or a piece of shit? Itís hard to tell. Is it the work of a genius or a piece of shit? Well, you never know. Is it the work of a genius or a piece of shit? Stop moaning Ė just go with the flow of it.

Uncle Ernest Heís got nothing left to say Ė heís got nothing left to sing. He doesnít know how it began Ė he doesnít know how it will end. Paintings seem to say much more than words and tunes have ever done before, self portraits mirror all his flaws brushing him into the corner. I know a man called Uncle Ernest Ė not the most relaxed or honest, if he lies, if he lies he must confess Ė Uncle Ernest. He doesnít know how to begin, or how to finish what heís started. He waits all night for it to end then feels so tired and so half-hearted. Wanders round in half day-dreams, the other half dreaming nightmare schemes to find the answers that nobody seems to question Ė whatís the lesson for you Uncle Ernest, Uncle Ernest Ė not everything has to be such a mess. Donít make the simple things in life so complex - Uncle Ernest, Uncle Ernest. Iíve seen you pounding round the streets at night with your mp3s, your satnav, your flashlight; Uncle Ernest - what yer doing? - Uncle Ernest. Sitting on a broken fence Ė never mending a decision. Plagued by swarms of dos and doubts and locusts of suspicion. Splinted words stick in his throat, tied up in knots and creosote, stung, back-bitten head to toe Ė then falling Ė and falling. Uncle Ernest, Uncle Ernest Ė why donít you just do what you do the best? try to relax, just face the facts, give it a rest Uncle Ernest - Uncle Ernest says... I just want to go to bed Ė and make like I am dead, curled up like little foetuses nothing can beat us Ė nothing can beat us. Heís still got nothing left to say Ė heís still got nothing left to sing. He doesnít think he ever will Ė he might not ever speak again. Paintings seem to say much more than words and tunes have ever done before, Paintings seem to say much more than words and tunes have ever done before, Paintings seem to say much more than words and tunes have ever done before but then he goes and paints himself into a corner. Uncle Ernest, Uncle Ernest canít help wondering if heís been possessed, cause if he lies, if he lies he must confess Ė Uncle Ernest. Uncle Ernest, Uncle Ernest, (donít you know?) Uncle Ernest... youíre the best.

Hey Thicky! Hereís some new chords, hereís some new words, why donít you write a song? Here come the drums, here comes the bass, why donít you have some fun? You can dance, you can sing, do anything you want. By yourself, with someone else, do anything you want. Here comes the booze, hereís the real you, here comes a new addiction. Here come the drugs, here comes the buzz, here come false accusations. Here come the dreams, the graphic scenes, here come the new religions. But you can dance, you can sing, do anything you want. Take a chance, make a hit, take anything you want. Be yourself, be someone else, do anything you want. Get in a band, get some fans and everyone will want to go to bed with you. But youíre just drifting away and no one knows what they can say to you. Youíre just drifting away and no one knows what they can say to you. (Hey thicky youíre so blind, youíre so blind youíve blown your mind, hey thicky, hey thicky) Take a stab, itís not too bad - relieves the tension. A bit of fun, for everyone, re-creation. You can dance, you can sing, do anything you want. Sell yourself, buy someone else, do anything you want. You had a band, had some fans, now everybody wants to have a piece of you. Youíre just drifting away and no one knows how to get close to you. Youíre just drifting away and no one knows how to get close to you. Faking all that is true, losing your feelings too, nobody gets close to you,

Pulling Her Hair Out Sheís sitting on the sofa, tapping the computer looking for something to buy. Could be a house or could be a car, she just wants something to buy. Sheís pulling her hair out Ė pulling her hair out. She goes in the kitchen, looking for coffee, she needs the coffee to think. Goes back to the computer, tries to buy coffee, searches online drinks. Sheís pulling her hair out Ė pulling her hair out. And she doesnít seem to know why her hair is everywhere - and by the way sheís a silver surfer, computer balder, looking for something to buy. Hair restorer might be an order she would benefit by, or maybe a computer, with a purchase filter and online payment denial. Sheís pulling her hair out Ė pulling her hair out. And sheís starting to cry. Her long hairís long gone but sheís still trying to buy but if you just sit on a sofa with a computer, learn your lesson do. If you just spend, spend, spend and just buy, buy, buy say goodbye to your hair too.

Only the Lonely One Calm this morning till you heard a voice, looked out the window and saw a face. Tried to push it to one side, hide away from prying eyes but you had seen and felt the lie. Crowded places feeling all alone. Voices in your head but not your own. Nights spent drinking to a blur, empty talking to a slur, said and done it all before. Try to humour, play along. Laugh out loud but every jokeís on you so itís a hollow one. A world away from where youíd hoped to be. Fighting people only you can see. Memories call you to the past, lovers haunt away your trust, first impressions bound to last. So sad the smiles, too tired for fun. Long gone the times when you still thought you were the only one. You thought you were the only one but now you are only the lonely one.

Shadow and Shade Walking - slowly. Walking - my head down. Nobody - looking my way. Keep walking - I donít make a sound. I saw you - through the window, the lights on - you in the shade. Just looking - minding my own business, not thinking - just trying to stay away. But then I told you what I was thinking. I shouldnít have said what was on my mind. Youíre better off - youíre better off not knowing, that way you can still believe the lie. I was hoping you might see the where and why and how the dog might bark but never bites. I thought that you might think itís worth a try but it seems youíre not that way inclined. So I keep walking, talking on my own. Walking, keeping my head down, mumbling to myself. Sshh. Walking - Iím still walking. I keep my head down - lost in the shade. Itís a physical thing - a physical way of loosening my mind. Itís the easiest way of staying around So I keep walking - keep walking these steps of shame. For crying out loud, Iím just flying around - moth to a flame. Whereas you - youíre just stand there on the other side. Youíre on the other side of the sane, untouchable and not to blame. And I canít sleep at night anymore. I canít sleep at night anymore. Iím always at your door. Always at your door. Iíve been waiting here so long. And now the rain is falling down and Iím pouring my heart out to you. Iím wet through with no clue - no idea what to do. Iím just a sad case walking around with my head down. Shadow and shade - Iím a self-made man. We may be through but Iím here again and Iím watching you.

Belong Iíve got a feeling it wonít be long, Iíve got a feeling it wonít be long. Iíve got a feeling you wonít belong, Iíve got a feeling you wonít belong. And when the time comes you wonít be wasting your time. When the time comes you wonít be wasting your time with me. Iíve got a feeling I wonít belong, Iíve got a feeling I wonít belong. And when the time comes you wonít be wasting your time. When the time comes you wonít be wasting your time with me. Iíve got nothing to say so Iíll just keep on singing this song Youíve got nothing to say so Iíll just keep on singing this song. Weíve got nothing to say so Iíll just keep on singing this song. and hope that youíre singing along. I hope that youíre singing along. Iíve got a feeling it wonít be long.

Finger Snapping I love you but youíre difficult, itís hard to explain. You aim wild like a catapult and consequently maim physically and emotionally, then somehow place the blame on the catapult - oh youíre so difficult but I love you just the same. Weíre all at sea and only some can swim, throw in the rubber ring. Ours is not to do or die, ours is to question why. We shoot from the hip firing blanks and mind bombs. The smoking gunís kaput, the safety clipís gone. If itís not the be all and end all then itís the start of all thatís been. If itís not just a means to an end why do we end up being so mean? Weíre all in the same small boat but only some can float. Ours is not to question why, ours is to do Ė then die. Stop your finger snapping.

Don't Cry Every Saturday night you go out on your own. I donít want to fight but I donít want you to go. You go anyway. You go out and you stay out all night. Please donít cry. Please donít cry. Donít cry for me Ė cry for yourself. Every Sunday morning I wake up in my room. You are never there. I wake up in my room alone as usual. Youíre not there as usual. Please donít cry. Please donít cry. Donít cry for me Ė cry for yourself. Cry for yourself.

Monastery We need more wars and suicides to keep our national health alive. While hopes of euthanasia die the youthful unemployed provide meaness to an end Ė survival of the fittest. Sickness to the very core; politics, money, laws. Shake your tins, give to the cause if it helps you feel less poor but less is more as more goes to the richest. Loss of confidence, restrictions, number crunching games. Tick-box exercising systems make you go insane Meet us at the monastery, weíll take sunny sauce, read poetry, pretend weíre in some romantic tragedy. So close and yet so far, smoking guns but no cigar. It doesnít matter who you are, rising sun or dying star, or la-di-da or okay yah, alright la. Lots of contra-contradictions, crimes of fiction claims. But when it comes to telling tales nothing stays the same. So meet us at the monastery, weíll take sunny sauce, read poetry, pretend weíre in some romantic tragedy. You canít get what you want till you know you want it. You canít get what you want. Meet us at the monastery.

Mundanely Romantic Itís mundanely romantic buying flowers to say sorry, eating candlelit dinners, leaving notes for each other, going to church on a Sunday, pruning roses by dozens, dressing up to go walking, holding hands while theyíre talking. Itís mundanely romantic. Itís mundanely romantic being sad when theyíre happy, laughing when crying at soft soap on tv, smiling at babies and wondering if maybe the soft pitter-patter will be kitten or puppy; the sex wouldnít matter as long as itís healthy. Itís mundanely romantic except when they say where were you last night? Iíve been worried sick and now Iím sick and tired. Donít make it any worse by saying things that neither of us will ever believe are true Ė like I love you. Itís mundanely romantic saying goodbye through a window, waving off at a station, sending texts on arrival, scrimping and saving with talk of survival beyond understanding where money wonít matter and loveís everlasting if you send it by email. Itís mundanely romantic except when they say where were you last night? Iíve been worried sick and now Iím sick in the head. Letís not make it any worse by saying things that neither of us should have ever said Ė like I wish that you were dead. Itís mundanely romantic but it could really be romantic if you tried a little harder.

Play On The sun is here, as bright as it can be, the birds fly high up in the sky a sight for my sore eyes to see but all I want to do is sit up in my bed with you. Well sheís an old fashioned girl in a modern old world and it takes me back to times when I was happy, sheís down with the clowns and I may be hung up but sheís the kind of girl that keeps me feeling like a clean boy and stops me feeling like a dirty old man. Sheís very sweet, sheís very small, wears heels on her feet that would make you keel so that she can feel a little taller, she can cut me down to size, any time she wants Ė Ďcos I adore her. Sheís no twitter, likes a letter, thinks face to face is better love. Now itís a million to one that sheís my one in a million, but sheís my jackpot and my boatís just come in, Iím walking on water when I canít even swim Oh how to begin, Iíll never give in till sheís by my side and Iíve collected my winnings Sheís no lightweight, likes heavy debate, canít relate to all that blogging fluff. I know it sounds lame to claim sheís one in a million but I should know Iíve tried more than a million times to find someone like her to ignore me; thereís nothing like unrequited love to help you see only good in a girl or even a boy. Sheís very strong, and so polite. If something goes wrong she doesnít make a song and dance just makes it come out right. If music be the food of love, my plate flows over, so does my cup, Iím so hungry - and full up, play on, play on, play on, play on, play on, play on, play on.

2x2 2 X 2 is 4. 3 X 3 is 9. 4 X 4 is even more but 1 X 1 is fine. I divide my time between numbers and rhyme. I subtract square roots from facts with plus and minus signs. 2 X 2 is 4. 3 X 3 is 9. 4 X 4 is even more but 1 X 1 is fine. When Iím feeling low I count on quite a lot. I calculate how long to go until my numbers up. Still 2 by 2 is 4. 3 by 3 is 9. 4 by 4 is even more but by myself is fine.

Knuckle Backed into the room, changed her point of view, said we need to talk - well at least I do. Youíre confusing my senses, disrespecting my mind, your senseless defences leave me resigned and I find the lies are all true - itís just one from the knuckle and a fist full of tension with you. Fleet and sure-footed, she kicked off her shoes, dug in her heels, said ĎIím not gonna move till you tell me the facts. You deceive through your eyes, your smile is a weapon, charm your disguise, but Iíve realised and I see what you do. Itís just one from the knuckle and a fist full of tension with you. He says, youíre so boring, you keep bawling oh She says, no more stalling, no name calling oh I canít take it anymore. I canít take it anymore. I canít take it anymore. I canít take it anymore. And I keep falling for it but Iím not falling for it anymore, anymore cause you go now, now now, I want it now, now, now, now, now, now, I want it now, now, now, now, now, now, I want it now, now, now, I want it now, now, now, now, now, now, now but I can see through everything that you say, everything that you do, itís just one from the knuckle and a fist full of tension with you.

Track Number Three Well here I am, head in my hands standing by the railway track. Donít know what Iím hoping for Ďcause I know youíre not coming back but hell, here comes a train Ė itís opening up its doors. Iím praying for a miracle but thereís not one of course. I ainít going nowhere Ė Iíve got nowhere to go Ė as you know? Iíve got my PJs, Iíve got my bottle of wine, but this ainít no party, Iím just a sleeper on the line waiting for a train - I donít know what else to do Ďcause Iíve been on and off these rails since I waved goodbye to you. You bought a one-way ticket Ė said I had to learn Ė no return. I was doing alright Ė just singing my song, but you changed my tune, snapped my strings and strung me along You were alright too Ė just doing your thing, but then lord, we pulled that cord and what hell did it bring! So here I am spending all my time by train track number three. Iíll stay here till you mind the gap and step on back to me. Youíre my flame Ė Iíll keep you burning bright, Iím staying inside this tunnel of love until you see the light I ainít going nowhere Ė Iíve got nowhere to go to. I ainít going nowhere Ė until that whistle blows for you Ė whoo whoo! `

I Can't Help You This life will sustain itself but that wonít help you or me. The selfish gene is in the bottle trying to break free. You can turn a blind eye, you can scream at the sky, put your head in the sand and never ask why, turn the other cheek and laugh till you cry. Youíre still gonna bloody well die. Everythingís in balance but your freedomís never fair. Highways, by-ways, your ways, my ways Ė they wonít get you anywhere. No matter what you say, no matter what you do, no matter if you walk in someone elseís shoes, thereíll always be somebody worse of than you. Thereís always someone worse off than you. I canít help you Ė I canít help myself. If you donít like who you are then bang the drum, smash the guitar, try being someone else. Letís not dream about the future, letís think about the past, but letís do it in the here and now and hope that it will last. Time is of the essence Ė only time will tell. Itís no use waiting for the bus to hell. If you cross the road thereís one to heaven as well. Youíre still gonna bloody well die. Hang the rope Ė kick away the chair. You might as well give up hope. Light the fire, smell your own smoke, end this sorry song on one final note. Your attitudeís a bloody joke.

Holidays in the Sun Ice cream melting in the sun, holidays just begun, children on the run, holidays in the sun. And youíd think that Iíd remember, youíd think that Iíd recall but I canít remember any sun at all. We always had a blue sky, nobody ever cried. Iíve seen it in the pictures Ė the ones they try to hide. We must have had some good times, Iím told that it was fun. We thought it couldnít happen. I think that we were wrong. Can anyone tell me, tell me where and when my memories went and how I get them back again? Can anyone tell me, tell me how and why I find myself talking to just hands and sky? Ice cream melting in the sun, holidayís just begun. Holidays in the sun.

All in This Together Here we go, here we go - here comes the stormy weather. Boats are floating on the river and weíre all in this together. Itís the right thing to do, putting up with the bunting, it doesnít matter that weíre broke and Europeís going to Hell, itís a story to tell your grandchildren but donít forget to have some first things first, get the complicated sorted, youíve got to have the keys to put your house in order. Itís a common misbelief that weíre all in this together, itís not rocket science, it doesnít take a genius to work out who the real queen and king is. Itís a kind of magic and itís patently tragic that as things go from bad to worse weíre all flagging it up and down the river like weíre birds of a feather, itís shocking how weíre flocking but thereís really nothing stopping us when thereís no point to anything that youíre doing you might as well do like everyone else is happy, stop your moaning, when in Rome act like a Roman, upstanding to attention, itís a show of affection, weíre all loyal subjects, informants and fingerers and itís back to work soon except for scroungers and malingerers. Here we go, here we go, historyís in the making, itís a gamble against time and weíre all for the taking. Enjoy it while you can and if you canít enjoy it be as miserable as you can be - at least put some proper effort in. Whereís your bulldog spirit? Pissing up a tree and tugging at the tether? Donít you know weíre all in this together? Lazy Monday afternoons Ė thatís the time to worry. Close your eyes and hide away. Close the curtains, turn the lights out, keep quiet, if anyone says you look well - deny it, donít get involved in rallies or riots, if youíre desperate you can always try a food-free diet. Weíre all in this together.

Come Close I hate you in ways I canít express Ė this is the best that I can do. They say you hurt the ones you love and I so want to hurt you. Find the pressure point and push until this fighting stops. If I said I want to smash your head against the wall it wouldnít come close at all. If I said I wanted to stab you through the heart and twist the knife till the love comes out Ė it wouldnít come close at all. What doesnít kill you leaves you stronger but what kills you leaves you dead. I want to smother you with love pillows wrapped around your head Ė still breathing, not leaving me with any choice at all but to put a gun against your skull doesnít come close at all. To put my finger on the trigger and then pull just doesnít come close at all Ė but itís the best that I can do. Yes itís the best that I can do. I know you donít like honesty but honestly, couldnít you try for our sake? At least lie with integrity and decency, spare yourself and me this heartache. Maybe you could try a little harder? But it doesnít come close at all.

Song from the Heart This is a song from the heart. Itís been a long time coming, Iíve spent a long time strumming this song from the heart. This song from the heart could be so complicated but simply stated itís just a song from the heart, it doesnít try too hard to be a song from the heart. It really is quite easy, slight and breezy, perhaps borderlining cheesy but I am in no doubt this songís for you. This song from the heart is written down in sunshine, recorded down in moonlight and if it isnít quite right Iím not going to get uptight; this songís for you. This song will do.

Smile When I see you smile thereís nothing I can do When I see you smile thereís nothing I can do Ė except smile too. When I see you smile the lines tell a lot, your eyes water up and then they shine but then they look away and I have to stay alone and wonder why brown eyes donít say what blue eyes are looking for. When I see you smile Iím no longer unsure. I dare to believe, faith is restored. I pray for the world and so much more. Then you have to dash and my hopes are smashed, my dreams in pieces on the floor but I pick them all up and then dream some more Ďcause Iíll never give in, Iíll fight, Iím no quitter. Though I might not win, Iím emotionally fitter than most. When I see you smile the world smiles back at me, the clouds move away and itís a sunny day, my headís full of love Ė Iím a sickly clichť but then you change the plan and I understand that this will never happen here. So letís go somewhere else where nobody knows who we are Ė somewhere far away. I know itís only a dream but some dreams come true if you believe they do.

Hole What weighs nothing but can sink a ship? Whatís in the middle of a mint but you canít eat it? What did you go away and leave me with? A hole in my heart. Asa Hartford had one too but he loved football and I love you. I donít know what Iím gonna do about this hole in my heart. When we were together you had me in stitches but then you stitched me up proper and now Iím in pieces, no longer laughing, no longer joking. Thereís a hole in my heart Ė itís broken. When I was fragmented you made me whole but just like Dumpty when he fell off the wall, all the Kingís horses and all the Kingís men canít put me back together again Ė Ďcause Iíve this hole in my heart. My will is weakening, my valves are leaking, my heartís stopped beating, metaphorically speaking... Iím in a hole of my own making, my heartís attacked and aching, Iím dying here, not faking this hole in my heart.

Happy Ever After Sheís head over heels in love, blue sky below, green grass above. She chews her bubblegum, ice pop running down her shiny hand and up her arm Ė sticky, sticky, sticky Ė sheís a charming girl. One day she will have him in their grown-up world. Sheís head over heels in love with the boy and his lunch box from Toys íRí Us. Chocolate always on his chin, in his hair and round his grin, in his ears and running down his nose Ė sticky, sticky, sticky Ė heís a lot of fun, short and ugly now but heíll be tall and handsome one day theyíll get married, have kids of their own and a dog and a cat because lifeís like that with a dog and a cat and a car and a house with a chimney stack Ė living happy ever after, eventually dying of laughter Ė assuming that you have to die at all. Sheís head over heels in love, with a graze on her knee and her heart on her sleeve. Sheís older than her years, already done with tears and wise enough to know that it gets sticky, sticky, sticky when you need someone bad - sheís been through it all before with her mum and dad. And when they do get married they wonít make the same mistakes and get worried about things that donít really matter at all like money and friends and parents-in-law and the house and the car and what was said before and the promises made and the way theyíd swore that theyíd never get any fatter or beat upon each other Ė and theyíd live happy ever...



© Crazy Quilt Bouquet


back to top