Best HMHB lyrics

Terminus

Camped out on a lower slope
Dog-tired at the toposcope
Hot soup in the aftermath
Salad days in many ways
Then time creeps up unseen
And it puts me back at the front of the bus
Hands I once held
No longer there
Grey falls on the green
As I try and get used to 'me' and not 'us'
Where I'm going I'm not sure that I care
Still thought I could play out wide
Felt sure I could stay onside
But stiff limbs and a shin which looks like
Inter's end on derby day
Says time's crept up unseen
And it's stuck me back at the front of the bus
Bound who knows where
Free of charge
The situation's lean
Though it could be worse
So I don't make a fuss
Still evading capture
Still at large
Somebody's mumbling Galatians
Somewhere a wolf-print fleece needs 90 degrees
Pushchair-related confrontations
Pastoral conceits, Italian fancies, comic glees
No stroll of a summer's eve
Neck brace and a shower sleeve
Hot soup in the afterlife
I've got my fingers crossed, because
Old Father Time's arrived
And he's sat by me at the front of the bus
Here I am as there I was before
Things I hold dear
Held in place by means of a surgical truss
Sorry, not in service any more
 
Terminus

Camped out on a lower slope
Dog-tired at the toposcope
Hot soup in the aftermath
Salad days in many ways
Then time creeps up unseen
And it puts me back at the front of the bus
Hands I once held
No longer there
Grey falls on the green
As I try and get used to 'me' and not 'us'
Where I'm going I'm not sure that I care
Still thought I could play out wide
Felt sure I could stay onside
But stiff limbs and a shin which looks like
Inter's end on derby day
Says time's crept up unseen
And it's stuck me back at the front of the bus
Bound who knows where
Free of charge
The situation's lean
Though it could be worse
So I don't make a fuss
Still evading capture
Still at large
Somebody's mumbling Galatians
Somewhere a wolf-print fleece needs 90 degrees
Pushchair-related confrontations
Pastoral conceits, Italian fancies, comic glees
No stroll of a summer's eve
Neck brace and a shower sleeve
Hot soup in the afterlife
I've got my fingers crossed, because
Old Father Time's arrived
And he's sat by me at the front of the bus
Here I am as there I was before
Things I hold dear
Held in place by means of a surgical truss
Sorry, not in service any more
Beautiful song.
 
God gave us life
So that we could take sweets
Off strange men in big cars
And get driven to the woods
To stroke non-existent puppies

God Gave Us Life.
 
Yeah time flies by when you're a driver of a train
Gonna get these syringes out and crank up once again

Under bridges, over bridges to our destination
Careful with that spliff, Eugene, it causes condensation
 
Down at Stoke Mandeville I bumped into Mr IQ
I said “Hey albino, this is not 1972
Stub out your King Edward and get that small boy off your knee
And melt down your fingerware and get yourself off my TV”

Jim could you fix it for me
To come down and suck out your kidneys?
I’ve got this young brother, you see
Who wants to stay alive to watch Bilko

When I’m pining for a cigarette
I think of all the free ones that I’d get
If I killed myself and came back as a beagle

I left my heart in Papworth General
 
Architecture, Morality, Ted & Alice has some great lines


The wonderful dexterity of Hannu Mikkola
Makes me want to shake hands with the whole of Finland
But the horrible sincerity of Miriam Stoppard
Makes me want to go out and commit mass murder

The halcyonic dynamo that lit up my childhood
Made me feel secure on the roads in winter
But the nauseating bashfulness of early Diana
Makes me want to set fire to commemorative tea towels

Have you tuned into Radio Dada?
Every Friday evening at six in the morning
 
Good call on Terminus, such a beautiful song and with some cracking lines.

A Country Practice certainly hits hard ...

I’m incredibly bored with the word “millennium”
I’m with the Jehovah’s Witnesses
Millions now earmarked will later be wasted
Her Majesty, marvellous, Mother – The Musical
The fireworks lighting up the Houses of Parliament
Death in Trafalgar Square, death in the armchair
Of cliched old spinsters who’ve never been loved
Every day is Australia Day
“Sons and Daughters” and “Home and Away”
And then the news comes on and the sound goes down
‘Cos she can’t be bothered with all them politicians
They’re all just a bunch of flaming drongos

She died with her telly on, eighty-seven and confused
With not enough hospital beds ‘cos all the money’s been used
On the end of the century party preparations
And they reckon that the last thing she saw in her life was
Sting, singing on the roof of the Barbican
Sting, singing on the roof of the Barbican

Lots of gentle fun too, so many favourites but I might go with 27 Yards of Dental Floss today ...

Well, I told her that I thought life’s too short
And we really should go for a ride
Paul’s just phoned, the war’s postponed
So come on, I’ve got the Plymouth outside
The sky’s a bit dull but the fridge is full
Things could be a lot worse
It’s not like you’ve been captured by Barbary Corsairs
I said “Let’s head Winchester way”, she said “Been yesterday”
Twenty-seven yards of dental floss, and she still won’t give me a smile

Fired by wine, she was almost mine
‘Til a fight broke out in the bar
Third-Rate Les in his Burberry Fez
Had gone just a little too far
Nailing down his baling wire
To the laminate floor
He sang a salty song about a girl from Bangalore
I said “Would you like to go the zoo?”, she said “Yeah, but not with you”
Twenty-seven yards of dental floss, but she still won’t give me a smile
I’m King Euphoria, she’s Queen Victoria
Twenty-seven yards of dental floss, and she still won’t give me a smile
I’m clowning by the Serpentine, she’s still drinking turpentine
Will she ever shine her light on me?

I've not had so long a gap between HMHB gigs as this, January 2020 in Hull was my last one but thankfully I've got seven of the next twelve lined up.

The random lyric generator can be found here ...

 

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