lirik lagu bill wells & aidan moffat - the unseen man
spoken:
the streets brim with beauty, they teem with talent, they’re all scuffed knees, and glistening skin, and shoes that were never meant for walking home. puke scabs on the corners, p-ss pools in the doorways, angels coming closes, and old flames weep in the backs of taxis
i saw you, i see you, i wouldn’t want to be you
and all the doors are open, but the bouncers know your face, and the girls don’t see you now, they won’t hear you now. they just want to dance with those baby-face boys. but you could take them all, these f-cking amateurs in their sisters clothes. and unnecessary spectacles. an unnecessary spectacle, that’s what you are. the last man standing, a remnant, what remains
you wear these shoes because they fit, and they’re comfortable. and f-ck going home! give me chip shop scuffles, and screaming sirens, and romance among the rats
i saw him, i see him, i shouldn’t want to be him
so stick your earbuds in and catch their eyes. what’s the worst that could happen? you kept up drink for drink, and line for line, but they still won’t wink, and they still won’t smile. and you’ll wake up at tea time with hammers in your head, and holes in your heart
i saw me, i see me, not sure i want to be me
but don’t worry. it’s not a mistake if you don’t remember it. so tumble on. guilt’s like a bad smell. the longer you live with it the less you even notice, as long as you’re falling forward. you’re pepé le pew, you’re sir drinks-a-lot, sir flirts-a-lot, sir tugs-a-lot. the [?] pater familias, a concup-ssing p-sspot. you’re just another fat, drunk dad in trainers, who likes a pint and hates buying clothes. but better grey hair than nay hair. and there’s nothing to drink at home, there’s nothing to think at home. the fridge is empty, the cupboard is bare, you bed is cold. but never fear, there’s always another promise to break tomorrow, and always another night to forget. and he’ll mend ye, but god loves a trial. so let us pray…
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