1. |
Chasing Leaves
03:38
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Walking up to the Hilton Hotel
It’s 8am and dark as hell
And my steel toe cap boots are killing my feet
And my Costa coffee’s gone colder than a witches teat
I’m gonna strim the shit outta this lawn
And this Rodadendrum’s gonna wish it’d not been born
I might jump on the mower, cut me some grass
But not before sweeping up the carpark
I’ve been chasing leaves all morning
And I just can’t seem to stop yawning
Cuz chasing leaves is boring
Cuz the leaves just keep keep keep on falling
Hop in the van, Magic FM
And I can’t believe they’re playing that same track again
Lionel Ritchie’s okay, but I need something more
To get me through these arduous chores
We’ve got litter to pick and weeds to pull
As I think about how I should’ve turn up to school
Coffee break's at ten, six hours to go
In London even labourers drink cappuccino
I’ve been chasing leaves all morning
And I just can’t seem to stop yawning
Cuz chasing leaves is boring
Cuz the leaves just keep keep keep on falling
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2. |
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If the world ended tomorrow I wouldn’t have to go to work
Or polish my work boots, or iron my work shirt
No moronic fools, no more rules to follow
If the world ended tomorrow
If the world ended tomorrow there’d be no more bills to pay
No more overdraft charges, or PPI to claim
No need to beg or steal or borrow
If the world ended tomorrow
If the world ended tomorrow I wouldn’t need to exercise
There'd be no calories to burn or desires to deny
No delicious food to chew or swallow
If the world ended tomorrow
If the world ended tomorrow I wouldn’t have to fall in love
Do an online dating profile, get an online dating snub
There’d be no heartache, nor joy, nor sorrow
If the world ended tomorrow
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3. |
On The Townes Tonight
02:42
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Watching True Detective in your bedroom, baby
With ginger cake and sparkling wine
And as the credits roll a familiar tune starts playing
And you held my hand so tight
We’re on the Townes tonight
He was born into influence and riches
But lived in trailer parks for most of his life
Playing dive bars for ten bucks and a jar of whisky
Singing “waiting around to die”
We’re on the Townes tonight
So let’s dance on Bob Dylan’s coffee table
Wear your favourite cowboy boots and I’ll wear mine
From the Texas plains to the mountains of Colorado
Counting stars on the Nashville skyline
We’re on the Townes tonight
You rendered him in wool and wire and stitches
Had a few beers and had yourselves a time
But the road’s his home so he went a-ramblin’
The cowboy poet wrote his last line
We’re on the Townes tonight
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4. |
Must-See TV
03:36
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I once taught chemistry
"You’ve not got long to live"
They said to me
So I started cooking meth
I was an ad exec
With a dead man’s name
On my pay check
And whisky on my breath
A wealth of experience, none of which happened to me
I was far too occupied with must-see TV
I was a Mafia man
Spent half of my life
With a gun in my hand
And the other half in therapy
A hurricane came
And flattened our town
But an act of God won’t keep us down
When there’s music in the street
A wealth of experience, none of which happened to me
I was far too occupied with must-see TV
From New York to New Mexico
From New Jersey to New Orleans
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5. |
Generic Love Song
02:04
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I wrote a generic love song for you
The words aren't great but I hope they'll do
Something about sunsets and something about fate
Forgive me if I don't write you a generic middle eight
I wrote a generic love song for you
The words aren't great but at least they’re true
I hope my lack of originality doesn't badly reflect
On the level of sincerity you've come to expect
I wrote a generic love song for you
The words aren't great so far and they don’t improve
All the songs on the radio that promised you the earth
You wanted Mr Darcy but I’m hardly Colin Firth
I wrote a generic love song for you
I’ve forgotten the words so do-be-do-be-do
And this is what love is actually like
Expectations are never quite met, try as we might
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6. |
The Music He Makes
03:54
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When he was very young music spoke to him
From John Denver to Led Zeppelin
Just a backwoods Ohio boy with a guitar on his knee
Now the music he makes speaks to me
He headed out west seeking fortune and fame
But none of the rock journalists could pronounce his name
Until he signed a contract with Ivo-Watts and 4AD
Now the music he makes speaks to me
Some people love him, while others just can’t relate
To his songs about kitty cats or the first time he got laid
Well songwriters are liars, but there are those with integrity
And the music he makes speaks to me
I’ll never forget the first time I heard him sing
The whole room fell so silent you could hear the drop of a pin
After the show I shook his hand and he signed my merch stand CD
The music he makes speaks to me
He’s a pugilist poet, a brawler with a guitar case
Tattered notebook in his hand and a frown etched on his face
As a young man he courted women and now he courts controversy
But the music he makes speaks to me
So thank you, thank you, thank you for picking up a pen
For writing the words you write and for singing them
For getting up on stage in far away towns and strange cities
Because the music you make speaks to me
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Jay Fynn UK
Lo-Fi Indie Folk Singer Songwriter
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