Suburban Joe.
You were out side asda,
loading up your masda.
with the shopping for the week.
Now your a family man,
and your wife seems nice,
but dont worry, I dont swim in the same pool twice.
Chorus.
All that time, you left me by the phone.
A real home alone, am I.
Now your a regular Suburban Joe,
trim them bushes mow the lawn.
well that's life.
You were my first love,
like hand in glove,
how we riled against the world.
but I never suspected you were so disaffected.
Well I've moved on and so have you.
All that time, you left me by the phone.
A real home alone, am I.
Now your a regular Suburban Joe,
trim them bushes mow the lawn.
well that's life.
The Miners fun fair
It was a sticky hot july,
Not a cloud was in the sky.
When me and nicky went to the fair.
It was 1983,
What a funny year for me.
I was 14 , and not glad to be gay.
There as Miss Amanda Silcott,
Who looked just like Toyah Wilcox.
If you paid her,
Then she’d let you go top.
There’d be a mild mass panic , if you say your new romantic.
Cause its strictly all mods and its Goths.
There was goldfish in bags.
And the girls wore shoulder pads.
Wolfing down their tea.
While their waiting for Dynasty.
You said you can be,
“anything you wanted to be.”
There was a girl by the waltzer.
Who got off, with some bouncer.
She was pregnant,
By the age of 15.
Later on you lost your cherry,
With a boy from Londonderry.
He said “life is for you, and for me.”
Cant you see you,
You can be what you wanted to be,
Just you see.
Life will turn out in the end.
Piccadilly
“excuse me kind sir, got a light for your cigarette.”
You said , you were instantly attracted to me.,
Was a mixture of gin,
And easily applicable,
Plying my trade around Piccadilly.
It’s been 12 long months since i landed from Dublin.
Life can be hard,
For accents like mine.
It’s either the goal,
Or the dark streets of London.
Ten shillings in change is all i can find.
What will they say, in county Kilderry.
To their long lost cousin,
Farewell in arms.
What will become of the sweet Kathleen.
While your plying your trade around Piccadilly.
Sexual Revolution.
This loathing for clothing,
Has got me in a mess,
In the posh houses of Worthing and Hove,
Their indulging in a spot of free love.
Chorus.
Well isn’t it shocking,
That one glimpse of stocking .
Can reduce you to a quivering mess,
That kind of stuff , you just don’t expect from me.
In the houses on the Brosley estate,
Those kind of things , that mass copulate.
Mr’s Alridge, put your ear plugs in,
Little Gerald’s waiting for his life to begin.
Chorus.
From biddick hall to Upper Westminster,
Suffragettes to Anglican minsters.
Mr manson where is your contribution,
Drop your draws for the sexual revolution.
The last rites of Karen McEntire.
She was tired of the household bills,
So she left her car in Muswell Hill.
Phone her husband , at a quarter to eight.
From her sisters house, in Bishopsgate.
Chorus
But its gone, its gone,
There's nothing worth a really holding on,
Its the last rites of Karen McEntire.
(Repeat)
She was bored of being just a housewife.
So she fantasies about the cosmo life.
While her husband read Fred Nietzsche.
She was dreaming of that Heat magazine.
Chorus. To the end.
Boy soprano.
Do you ever sit back ,
And think of missed opertunities.
While your home with
Your social security.
All those films made with Willaim Hay.
You were the oldest school boy
Of your day.
Chorus.
But something’s wrong.
Something’s wrong.
And it’ll never come back.
You remember that soldier
By the Pier Pavilion
Strangely exotic,
And oh so familiar.
You sold your soul,
For a double entedre,
Funny smile, and a pittance of pay.
Chorus.
Mr Norris goes to town.
Mr Norris don’t be a fool,
To yourself.,
All this pacifying
Really bad for your health.
You were born a boy,
But you feel like a girl.
Stick that gingham on,
And go and give us a twirl.
Chorus.
But life’s not bad.
Now you’ve gone and told your dad.
And life will work out fine.
Just give us a little time,
Life, life, its not what I thought it was.
Mr Norris you were a hebburn boot boy,
Playing football,
But you felt such a fraud.
Cammy knickers under your football shorts.
Avoiding changing rooms,
So you never get caught.
New Best Friend.
Passing over the Newcastle Bridge,
to a new night club.
We hoped they'd let us in,
Among the rent boys,
and the old drag queens.
Heading over to the central scene.
chorus.
And we made it till the end,
just you and my new best friend.
And some friendship's never end,
like you and my new best friend.
See us dressed up to the nines.
at the all night caffs,
and neon signs.
Hoping everything is going to work out fine.
We were the bright young
Disco dancing in the all night raves,
we didn't know if it was night and day.
Spending days listening to Primal Scream.
Saint Etienne, and the new pop dream,
chorus.
Footprints in the sand.
When he got in,
all he had was a bag of frozen chips.
A stark reminder that his life,
had come to this.
Your wife seemed pleased,
with the oh so cheap cologne.
From the one and only business trip,
that you decided not to phone.
Chorus,
Micky Most,
and power cuts.
3 day weeks,
and Rentaghosts.
Are just reminders of footprints in the sand.
Hartley Hare,
and Arctic rolls.
Russell Mael,
and overcoats.
Are just reminders of footprints in the sand.
So the grass wasn't greener,
on the duvet up the road.
Well what you saw in her,
my god we'll never know.
It was a moment of madness,
but its cost you dearly now.
What a way to dispose,
of that spiteful silly cow.
Chorus,
Oh you silly cow, you've really gone and done it now.
Chorus. to fade.
Their just reminders.
Let me take you to a Euro-disco.
You cannot kick a football,
or even throw a dart.
You cannot drink a pint,
so you only get a half.
Fool some of the people,
some of the time.
But you cannot fool me,
cause I recognise the signs.
chorus.
Let me take you to a euro-disco,
we can dance all night
Let me take you to a euro-disco,
we can find our own kind
Let me take you to a euro-disco,
we can be so Free...........
Didn't score at all,
the first time we went out.
Well dont worry there's a lot of us about.
Love bites and poppers are always in the air.
Lets start a revolution.
Cause there's more of us out there.
Chorus.
I want to be free.
I'm 19, and I'm reasonably angsty.
This time is for me.
My shirts ironed and I'm feeling randy.
Chorus. to fade out.
We want you, as a new recruit.....
Lets Play Cupid.
I cant be arsed to answer
the phone.
Lets pretend that were
not home.
You may think this idea is stupid.
Imaginations on overload.
Chorus.
Let's play cupid, baby.
We don't have to tell all of our friends.
Let's play cupid, baby.
You know love, well it never ends.
(Repeat)
I can't live my life
in opposite places.
Communicating by your face book status.
Lets watch a dvd,
I was thinking of Comfort and joy.
its a story about boys meets girl,
on the streets of old Glasgow.
chorus.
It never ends.
Jackie Wilson skat bit to the end.
Well here's me new selection of songs, I mined a deeper form of lyric writing for this lot, I wanted to feel like it my grand statement, all the songs being rooted in English sensibilities. So I thought well lets just write what I want. So its got traces of Ray Davies, Paul McCartney, bit of Madness in the piano parts, bit s of Tennent and Lowe in the more disco-escue "Let me take you to a Euro-disco."
As ever it vies from waltzs,to euro-disco, to all out pop,big fat ballads,folk, rock and roll, bit of swing, sunshine pop, vaudeville pop, and a lot of jazzy chords, (wicked man) with a cast list of disparate characters, and songs about Charles Hawtrey. About growing in under the shadow of Thatchers Britain. About losing my virginity, about friendship, lost love, cross dressing, song of the songs relate to real life incidences, but some are about situations that aint mine, but I've just sung them in first person to give them higher sincereness. There's a great trumpet bit in Boy Soprano listen out for it.
cheers mark gibson - your new best friend. xxxxxx
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