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Arab Strap




Music World  →  Lyrics  →  A  →  Arab Strap  →  Albums  →  The Red Thread

Arab Strap Album



2001
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the rain woke us up
you turned round and just did it
good morning, slow down
have you remembered where you hid it?

you cried in the kitchen
we made up in the hall
I watched you get dressed
those boots make you too tall

and we made each other late
cause I took my watch off there
so it wouldn't scratch you skin
or get tangled in your hair

it wasn't long ago
we went on guided tours
but I forgot what it meant
to pretend my hand was yours

it's best in the morning
when we know it won't be rushed
so leave the curtains closed
and come back when you've brushed


. . .



We used to do it to ease the tension, pretend that sex wasn't our intention.
Even months later when they all knew, it always helped just to have a few.
But now what's the point, if we're not going out?
It only makes you tired. It only makes me shout.

Always the last chance for you and me. First come apologies, then the plea.
I wash the walls as you pack your stuff. I've had to much and you've had enough.
Now what's the point, if we're not meeting friends?
From midday to morning, on weekdays or weekends.

We could pretend that this never started,
That you're still shy, I'm still broken hearted.
And we'll get pissed just to watch the telly
And I'll get worked up when you flash your belly.
Now what's the point if we're just staying in?
It's a lot of effort for one big din.


. . .



You used to be part of the scenery but now I know your name.
My mind wonders what my hands would do, to make sure that you came.
She hardly said a word again tonight, I threw a book and grabbed my keys.
And on the way here I swore to myself, I'd fuck whoever I please.

Everywhere I go, there's so much on show.
Everyone is beautiful, but I stay dutiful.

The only solid solution is to sever my hands, stitch my mouth up and blind me.
Wrap me up and pack me tight. Leave me somewhere you'll never find me.

Everywhere I go, there's so much on show.
Everyone is beautiful, but I stay dutiful.
It must be the sun and my desire for fun.
If you did it, would you tell us? I think I'll always be jealous.


. . .



If I could always be eighteen
You could always be eight
We'd draw monsters on your wall
I'd keep you up too late

'Cause getting served in pubs
It's all it's cracked up to be
I dreamt you were wee again
Arms stretched and pining for me

Come here so I can help you
Tie your brand-new tie
Brush your coat, and remember
No one laughs if you cry

Well fuck me, it's windy
We picked a good day
That's the first drink I've ever bought you
And I'm sure you're starting to sway


. . .



You've always thought the first time was that night on the boat,
Ccramped up in the bottom bunk while she slept above.
I suppose it's more glamourous out at sea under the moon.
Instead of pissed at a party while they laughed below.

Twenty-three years of foreplay led up to this.
But sometimes I envy my friends, sometimes I see a world of opportunity.
And what if stays out there anchored in the middle of nowhere.
Maybe we should arrange to meet somewhere, you go out with yours,
I'll go out with mine.

You always thought the first time was on the boat, and you don't even like boats.
When we got one on holiday all you could say was "don't go out too far".
And what if it never comes back, it just stays out there on the sea.
All my favourite memories are of you.
All the best times were with you, but sometimes I see a world of opportunity.


. . .



We slept in this morning and she had to get ready in a hurry. No time for her usual attention to detail. And she ran out the door, slamming it behind her, leaving her keys swinging and jangling. I stayed in bed until I heard the downstairs door shut, then peeked through the blinds. And as soon as she was out of sight, I went for the keys.

She never tried to make a secret of the box or the fact it was locked, or even where she kept it. But as I said at the time, "if you've nothing to hide... Why hide it?" It's one of those wee red cash box things, and she keeps it in a drawer by the bed under some pictures and books. Every key she has is on the same keyring, it took me a while to
find the right one.

I don't know, I suppose I've had my doubts for a while. There's been hushed phonecalls virtually every night. Her friends stop talking when I come into the room and they look at each other. I don't know, it's just a feeling. Anyway, I eventually found the key and it fitted perfectly. I put the box on top of the bed and opened it up...

There were nice pictures of friends and exes. Letters, postcards, doodles... Nothing bad. And then I found some sort of sex diary, and went to the latest entry. It explicitly detailed a recent adventure up the park with a boy she said she'd forgotten about. And it got worse as it went on. The dates never made sense. There were people I'd never even heard of.

Eventually, I had to stop reading it cause I started to feel sick. So I put everything back the way I found it, shut the drawer, and phoned you. See, I don't know what to do. I keep having fantasies about leaving her dictaphone under the pillow. Or following her when she goes to work. I've been lying about where I'm going, just in case I can bump into her.


. . .



How can nothing ever mean something?
It goes from white to grey so fast.
A new pool on a strange mattress helps me catch up with my past.
Pass me something to wipe with, we're so easy to please.
Do you worry that it's loaded? Laced with a million little me's.
So are you up for the hat-trick or are you down for a rest?
Is the whitest light between our legs or hidden in my chest?
And if they see us on the stairs or if they catch us on the sink,
Move quickly and brush it off with a giggle and a wink.
At least we know we're fuckable,
at least we're sated and we're tired.
At least the bedroom stinks and we know we're desired.


. . .



We met on mutual ground but you avoided my gaze,
U until I lost your face in the next morning's haze.
Your shoes could've woken up the whole street.
They drowned out the birds screaming in the trees.
We sat down on the stone stairs and I watched the scars on your knees.

We met on mutual ground, you fell out of your dress.
This bar's not open late enough, so let's go home and make a mess.
They smiled and left the room to leave us with more space,
But we stayed where we were and just had a drink to the chase.

A good night kiss equals a quick reaction, but it's hard to believe I'm fully grown.
So as usual, we parted on vague terms, so you could climb back on your throne.


. . .



Haunt me. I know, you'll keep me in tow. No laugh, no guide.
No limp beside.
So haunt me cause I know, You'll keep me in tow.
If she's all I need to love and breed,
Then haunt me, cause I know You'll keep me in tow.


. . .



You always jump and quiver when you're coming in to land.
With no runway, no guidance, no nails dug into my hand.
We could have whoever we want.
We could go back to school and see the dead laugh again.
Let's get dressed up and pull.

The only benefit of drinking, the downside of what we take.
Some weekends I feel like I could always be awake.
A party in a strangers house, have we ever met the host?
Just smile and keep talking and get your can for a toast.

We won't always be safe here but this is where we reign.
Pull it tight to protect us. We might never sleep again.


. . .


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