[PLEASE NOTE THAT BANDCAMP DOES NOT PRESERVE ALL TEXT FORMATTING. These lyrics look better in the CD sleeve.]
Ooh, ooh, ooh.
Suddenly a formality abnormally strays.
Reality just seems to change at once.
Dunces, paid to lunch, laughing ominously…
If only I could obviously extract a little sweet revenge
without causing friends some doubt,
I would heap enormous pressure,
crushing greed with gleeful pleasure,
bent right through. Big wide blue.
Squalid and dank, but solid and with no-one to thank,
a bank of stolid misfits made their nest
but slept fully-dressed, lest they suddenly be banished.
By the busload, crew thus vanished out of view; big wide blue.
(It) opens up, big, wide and blue, and springs upon a lucky few…
Ooh, ooh.
Withering me, with hammers of their blacksmithery
and gamma rays of mythic degree,
an iron rain is dropping like tons of blazing hot anvils,
pouring from the sky, no prior warning.
Friendly fire, quickly dawning,
hurling scorn through my torn awning.
Damage done. Big wide blue.
(It) opens up, big, wide and blue,
and springs upon a lucky few,
some glittering rainbows and pure rays of sunlight.
Despite my pleading, hope’s receding: where’s this leading to?
My plans upset by some pathetic petty parvenu.
What was already hardly steady job security
is fast effaced to be replaced by an apostrophe.
Bluntly stiffed, the decisions they have made are
pushing me further out, under the radar,
where I’m drenched by an abhorrent torrent...
I ponder, shivering in unforgiving livery:
how like the motion of an ocean can a river be?
Cast adrift on the current of a runnel,
out at sea, tossed as ballast from a gunwale;
like some inside-out umbrella focused rainfall like a funnel
on my gasping face with no ‘plan B’ or ‘option two’.
(It) opens up, big, wide and blue,
and springs upon a lucky few,
some glittering rainbows and pure rays of sunlight.
In 2019, I was in Salisbury and attended the Alphabet Business Convention without knowing any artist. Lost Crowns was my favourite band that played there. Pablo P.
