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1. |
Fireworks At Midnight
02:08
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I started the year in a heated marquee
Working time and a half to an affluent crowd
And it’s drinks from the left and it’s food from the right
Where the platters that matter run clockwise all night
And I’ll try and remember your order
If you try and remember your wife
And I’ll try to forget
I’m working time and a half at the start of the year
Try working time and a half when you don’t have a choice
The fireworks start so it’s midnight I guess
And the couples embrace like they’ve only just met
And I long for the frisson of passion they share
Not just sweethearts hand-holding, but total immersion
I’m trying to capture the feeling
To replay it at will, but for now I’m stuck waiting here
For the first kiss of the start of the year
I’m stuck waiting for the first kiss of the start of the year
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2. |
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The midsummer heat gets the newspapers talking, as diligent crowds fill the roads
And as the people decamp to the beaches then I’ll share the city with you
If only I could share the city just with you
A handwritten note is a scant consolation, but I’ll take whatever love’s left
With pen strokes that slant from the left to the right like a drunk cyclist
Meandering home on a cold Christmas Eve
And I know, I know
This faded note that I hold in my hand
An invitation to run
It’s a chain reaction to run
To the tempting lines in disposable ink
A dozen casual promises, I’m falling back in
I’m always the first to get burnt by the summer or blinded by someone I trust
I pray on my knees for the sweetest release of the cold autumn months
If only I could share those autumn months with you
I never could count the cards but I sure learned to read your brown eyes
You never learned Russian Whist but you sure learned to spin out a yarn
As far and as wide as the national grid
And promises, promises fall from your lips overwhelmingly
Promises, promises fall from the page like a mountain spring
Distilled and repackaged as something unique
And I know, I know
This single page that I hold in my hand
An invitation to run
It’s a chain reaction to run
To the tempting lines in disposable ink
A dozen casual promises, I’m falling in
So, keep the unblinking eyes, it’s okay, I buy it
Keep up the paperwork, I just want to read it
Keep up the party line, I’ll might not believe it
But just want to hear it, I just want hear it out loud
And I know, I know
This steady hand that I hold in my hand
An invitation to run
It’s a chain reaction to run
To the tempting lines in throwaway speech
A dozen casual promises
Well, back in the day when your letters arrived I’d be lovesick I guess
The Ts, Ls and Js would all slant the same way but now something has changed
The handwriting tells always give us away
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3. |
The Sky At Night
03:41
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A simple telescope
An impulse buy from the market town
Where cheap scented candles were three for a pound
Where almost antiques are perused and discarded right under the shopkeepers’ eyes
I lost my girl to an eyepiece and the sky
The bedroom slipping into disrepair
The cellophane peels from a paperback book
The wallpaper tears where the pictures once stood
Street lights and dancing say much more to me than the cold sky at night
With your telescope gathering light
I’m left to my thoughts and I’m left to my records
And I’ll watch the back of your neck as you sit on your knees gazing up at the sky
With your telescope gathering light
You’re lost to the world and you’re closing an eye
And I’m left all alone in the deafening quiet
Looking for something to fill all those nights when you’re lost gathering light
We’d kiss like teenagers
Who’d run away at seventeen
Romantically plan for a summer abroad
And make it as far as the next market town before midnight
And heading back home
Then I lost my girl to a small refracting lens
An eyepiece and a cylinder of light
The holiday sunglasses stay on the shelf
Gathering dust by the traveller’s globe
Street lights and dancing say much more to me than the cold sky at night
With your telescope gathering light
I’ll gather my thoughts and I’ll long for the courage
To pull down the shutters if I could discover some ways to distract
From the telescope gathering light
But you’re lost to the world and you’re closing an eye
And I’m left all alone in the deafening quiet
Looking for something to fill all those nights when you’re lost gathering light
So open up, let’s run through the city tonight
At least until the clouds dissipate
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4. |
Sound Of The Carnival
04:23
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Do you remember when the carnival came by?
It was late September ‘99
You were staying on my sofa, packing bags and throwing darts at maps at random
I was in love with the dancing in the streets
But you won’t stay still for anything
As the years went by you never settled down, did you?
You’re a postcode lottery
And I’m the girl they built the town around
And suddenly, just when I least expect it, you’ll be around
Well are your Silk Cut running out?
Or are you holding out for something else?
As the city descends on us
With the weight of a thousand cartoon anvils falling endlessly down
You’ll be the first to leave town
You’re the sound of the carnival
You’re the sound of a psychedelic orchestra that took to the streets
Swept all the girls off their feet
Am I just some repetitive beats?
Left feeling incomplete
I bought a GPS just to follow you around, sunshine
You’re a postcode lottery
Dressed in 1980s hand-me-downs
On summer days, when you rush past my window I feel alive
When my head’s still spinning round
I can’t help keeping two feet on the ground
As the city will carry us
With the speed of a thousand rollercoasters swiftly spiralling round
You’ll be the blur at the front
You’re the sound of the carnival
You’re the sight of a thousand modern dancers who abandoned the script
Swept all the boys off their feet
Am I just some repetitive beats
To make you feel complete?
And when I tell you you’re a lottery
I quite admire the whole philosophy
You’re the chaos of the town
So now I’m throwing clothes in rucksacks and I’m aiming darts at atlases, with you by my side
The carnival passing me by for a while
And the city will lift us up
With the grace of a thousand northern landbirds heading south for the sun
Let yourself blink and we’re gone
We’re the sound of the carnival
We’re the sight of a thousand summer festivals that took to the streets
Swept all the kids off their feet
Seeking something that’s out of our reach
Where everything’s complete
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5. |
Sparklers
03:22
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My summer began in September
I can pinpoint the day it arrived
When the apples turned easily loose in my hands or just fell to the ground
When the seasonal staff and the locals combine then the sparks start to fly
But the sparks never last
We worked morning shifts in the orchards
You bunked in the landowner’s barn
And despite early starts we’d throw alfresco parties than ran through the night
And with reckless regard for the trees all around we’d share sparklers
And the lights burned your name
In the lids of my eyes
It burned under my skin
But we both knew the deal
That you’ll follow the summer to wherever it lands
And just leave me behind
When the orchards run dry
Where the sparks never last
And for two months a year I’m in love with it all
But as quickly as summer arrives then it’s all gone, sweeping everyone up
Almost everyone up
Us locals stay put while the seasonals move to another more seasonal town
And if I keep my head down well they might keep me on through the winter
As the students depart
To the next college term
As the winter draws in
Well, could we broker a deal?
And let's follow the summer to wherever it lands
Just don't leave me behind
In this seasonal decline
Where the sparks never last
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6. |
Gaumont State Cinema
03:44
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At the High Road end of Willesden Lane
I’m not the best with directions
I took your hand in my hand
And we’d hotfoot to the confectionary
When nine to five means eight to six
The State Cinema means everything
A thousand miles from the Kings Road crowds
The boutiques on Portobello Road
In the double daylight saving time
Amid wood-effect linoleum
I’d watch the white dot on the television
Slowly disappear
In the web of indoor washing lines
In love around a single coal fire
A thousand miles from the Kings Road crowds
The boutiques on Portobello Road
I’ll capture the furtive looks we’d share
Scraping the frost from the living room wallpaper
So when nostalgic eyes romanticise, I can stick to my lines
I’ll describe how the lights fell on your face
Write down the Woolworth’s flavoured lipstick taste
So when nostalgic eyes romanticise, I can stick to my lines
I’ll capture the way the frozen milk
Pushed up the silver tops from the bottle necks
So when nostalgic eyes romanticise, I can stick to my lines
I’ll write down each stolen summer kiss
Describe all our falling outs and the making-ups
So when nostalgic eyes romanticise, I can stick to my lines
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7. |
Harbour Lights
03:56
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Seven Sisters, you showed me how to smile
Seven Sisters, gave me love and hurt in equal size
I’m afraid that I’ve strayed and there’s no turning back
I long for autumn, just to hide within a coat
I long for winter, just to have the streets all to myself
A hidden retreat or a stolen weekend
I’ll cling with weathered fingertips
Soft-focused melodies and
Swap decades of hectic streets for
A weekend’s faded memories
Where west coast harbour lights keep on calling me back
The lifeboats bob on the turning tide
The carousel spins silently in black and white
And those east coast 45s in their polythene sleeves
The needle drops and I’m feeling seasick
Hypnotised by the hiss and clicks
And the tidal streams
I’m sleepwalking back to the sea
Well I know, the winter takes its toll on you
Those hectic scenes, those unforgiving streets
Drive-by soundbites, in fifteen words or less
Chequebook politics, always in lower case
Just dodge the bullets and try to think of somewhere else
Seven Sisters, I love you but that’s it
Swing Out Sister, take me anywhere just play the hits
I’m turning imperfect cartwheels on cold cobbled streets
I’ll cling with weathered fingertips
Soft-focused melodies and
Swap decades of hectic streets for
A weekend’s faded memories
Where west coast harbour lights keep on calling me back
Where the lifeboats bob on the turning tide
The carousel spins silently in black and white
And those east coast 45s in their polythene sleeves
The needle drops and I’m feeling seasick
Hypnotised by the hiss and clicks
And the tidal streams
I’m sleepwalking back to the sea
Well I know, the winter takes its toll on you
Those hectic scenes, those unforgiving streets
And I know, the temptation just to trade it in
Those hectic scenes, for a weekend’s faded memories
Where west coast harbour lights keep on calling me back
Where the lifeboats bob on the turning tide
The carousel spins silently in black and white
And those east coast 45s in their polythene sleeves
The needle drops and I’m feeling seasick
Hypnotised by the hiss and clicks
And the tidal streams
I’m sleepwalking back to the sea
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8. |
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More canapés sir, a drink from the bar?
I’d suggest that a soft drink might be what’s required?
As the extrovert stands, takes the tablecloth ends
And you’ll know what comes next as he whips it away
And the flowers and vase are still standing
As the glasses and plates hit the floor
And I’m still waiting here
For the first kiss of the start of the year
I’m stuck waiting here
For the first kiss of the start of the year
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9. |
The Beaujolais Lanes
04:15
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Take me back to the ochre-coloured towns
When you were 20, I was 21
And we left the city to its own devices for a while
Just one last summer then we’ll knuckle down
Hand in hand, we hugged for warmth on midnight ferries and
I skimmed the guidebook and you drank tax-free red wine
I picked up lines from dated phrasebooks and
You took a biro and sketched out maps of the Beaujolais lanes
Where the tailbacks run for miles
Another vineyard and another chance
To identify complexity, expressiveness and taste
From the Côte de Brouilly to the distant look on your face
And gradually our June vacation
Lost its sense of anticipation somehow
With every swirl and taste and savour
Well I could sense you drifting further away
And across the scattered towns
The connoisseurs and wind-swept tourists
Pursue a true perfection with a smile
As the tears run down the glass
The wine you drink straight from the vineyard
Will fade as winter months draw nearer
Replaced with every year
The wood-smoke has gone to our heads
Now you’re heading back to the city and I am lost in the Beaujolais lanes
As the celebrations fade
I was 22 then, you seem years away
Just as anyone in marketing can speak a simple spiel
When something’s new, it’s got a raw appeal
Then with time, we start to see a clearer picture
Perceptions shift and attractions alter
And I can taste wine with objective rigour
I speak the language and everything’s crystal clear
Across the scattered towns
The connoisseurs and wind-swept tourists
Pursue a true perfection with a smile
As the tears run down the glass
The wine you drink straight from the vineyard
Will fade as winter months draw nearer
Replaced with every year
The wood-smoke has gone to our heads
Now you’re heading back to the city and I’ll
Go aimlessly stumbling back
Back through the Beaujolais Lanes
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10. |
Five Day Forecast
03:19
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We step along a terrace where the incline leaves us out of breath and dizzied by the climb
The painted doors and sandstone grey and faded by the smoke and soot of industries gone by
The windows are frozen, the furniture is worn, threadbare
We’ll learn to love it if we stay here
The key’s a little rusty and the pictures need replacing but the views are out of sight
Look west and there’s the harbour if you squint beyond the pylons and the supermarket signs
The streets are a mystery, the neighbourhood’s my next best friend
We’ll learn to love it if we stay here
Step into sunshine
Or crash against the turning tide?
The jury’s out, in two minds
Just hoping for a five day forecast to describe
Are we catching a tailwind
Or overwhelmed or just capsized?
We’ll brace ourselves, close our eyes
Just clinging to a sense of what our five day forecast might provide
The streets are a mystery, the neighbourhood’s my next best friend
We’ll learn to love it if we stay here
The windows are frozen, the furniture is worn, threadbare
We’ll learn to love it if we stay here
I could learn to love the climb back home, at least it keeps me fit
I could learn to love the single glazing in such a quiet street
I could learn to love the curtain-twitching neighbours opposite
And hopefully I’ll feel this way within the working week
Step into sunshine
Or crash against the turning tide?
The jury’s out, in two minds
Just hoping for a five day forecast to describe
Are we catching a tailwind
Or overwhelmed or just capsized?
We’ll brace ourselves, close our eyes
Just clinging to a sense of what our five day forecast might provide
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11. |
The End Of The Pier
05:10
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I’d brush down a charcoal grey suit
Fasten a skinny grey tie and I’d picture you fixing your hair up
Ironing neat sunray pleats in a circular skirt
I’d practice the steps in my hall
I’d try out my quickstep and side kicks round chairs by the kitchen room table
Until typically just as it started to click, along came the Twist
We’d meet at the end of the pier
Spin around the Edwardian ballroom and drink Vodka Collins from hipflasks
And stroll back to land with a Woodbine in hand
You’d laugh with the girls from the shop
We’d kiss on the decking and smile at the leather-clad teddy boy try-hards
Bet they wished they could dance the way that we danced round that old wooden hall, and who would have thought
That I’d be the one who sits at the end of the pier all alone watching the tide
That I’d be the one who stands at the faded pavilion doors
Watching the space where we’d dance to the bands on a Saturday night
The gatehouse got burned to the ground
The cafe became an arcade and our ballroom became a casino
The old helter-skelter unused and unloved
I can picture your dress spinning round
Sometimes I can still see our love in the candyfloss-sharing young couples that pass
But I bet they can’t dance the way that we danced round that old wooden hall, and who would have thought
That I’d be the one who sits on the end of the pier all alone watching the tide
That I’d be the one practising side kicks and lifts round the hall in the same charcoal suit
Fire brigade staff, the next time it’s burning and everyone’s safe, please just stand aside
Or I’ll be the one who still stands at the faded pavilion doors
Watching the space where we’d dance to the bands on a Saturday night
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Pocketbooks London
Pocketbooks are a pop band from London, combining melodic harmonies, spiralling guitars and descriptive storytelling. Since 2006, they've released two albums and played shows across the UK, Europe and the United States.
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