Frank Turner Album

I brought myself back from the devil,
And now I'm keeping it all for myself.
I'm checking myself out of the programe,
Because no one is blessing my health.

So why not dream like you're running out of sleep,
I'm not playing a punch line, I'm playing for keeps.
We only just started and you're going to fight.

You ride up and (???) and fade away
well why not (???) and you're unfair to say
Let's do this once now and let's do it right

I used to act like none of this mattered,
And I used to say that I didn't care.
That we wouldn't be doing this forever,
But the truth is that I was just scared.

So you put up a front to protect yourself,
If you're down on the floor why get back on the shelf,
You can't change your outfit once the night has begun.

We still got the fuel and we still got the fire,
So (???), yeah let's never reture.
Let's keep on making mistakes 'till we die

It won't last,
So people...

I'm gonna live fast and I'm gonna die old,
Gonna end my days in a house with high windows,
On the quiet shores in the south west.

So you set the tunes, man and I'll bring the beers.
So I'll (???) birthday and I'll see you right here,
And together we will watch the sun set.

There's no one in my coffin, there's nothing in my grave
Yeah, I'm tired of being dammned I'd rather be saved.
We can never sell out because we never brought in,
And if they build it back up then we'll swing back in town and bring the whole thing down again.

I'm gonna live fast and I'm gonna die old,
Gonna end my days in a house with high windows,
On the quiet shores in the south west.

So you set the tunes, man and I'll bring the beers.
So I'll (???) a birthday and I'll see you right here,
And together we will watch the sun set.

So people, it won't last,
Live fast, die old
Choose a path, so so
Live fast, die old.

Let's inherit the earth, cause no one else is taking it,
Come on do your worst, before the moment's gone.
I'n bedrooms across England, and all the Western world,
There's posters and there's magazines,
The music isn't ours.

Cause we write love songs in E,
And we do politics in G
We sing songs about our friends in E minor.
So turn out the stars now and take up your guitar,
And come on folks and try this at home.

Let's stop waiting around, for someone to patronise us,
Let's hammer out a sound that speaks of where we've been.
Forget about the haircuts, the stupid skinny jeans,
the stampedes and the irony, the media-fed scenes

Cause we write love songs in E,
And we do politics in G
We sing songs about our friends in E minor.
So turn out the stars now and take up your guitar,
And come on folks and try this at home.

Because the only thing that punk rock should ever really mean
is not sitting round and waiting for the lights to go green,
and not thinking that you're better because you're stood up on a stage.
If you're oh so fucking different then who cares what you have to say?

And there's no such thing as rock stars, there's just people who play music,
and some of them are just like us, and some of them are dicks.
So quick, turn off your stereo, pick up that pen and paper,
you could do much better than some half-arsed skinny English country singer

Me and my friend Dan are gunna get some beers and then we're gunna go down to the park and drink them there.

We're busk out in the sun get a guitar and play some songs, call up some friends and invite them out to share.

Well it might be the last weekend of summer because septembers getting colder as it goes.

And we havent done enough of this simple kinda stuff this year its clearer we're getting older and it shows.

Well work weeks make us weary now and schools a distant memory, its easy to ask questions of our selves.

Like were it is were going now and what we have to show for all the sunny days shut up in the shells there expectations of our ultimate directions and the stations that we should have reached by now.

When we haven't read the script and our tender wings are cliped and yeah were scared we might be letting someone down.

Listen to these heart break songs when nothings really wrong and we smile when were asked and we say that were fine.

And were drifting though our middle days and were creaping into middle age setting in our ways and now its time to decide now its time to draw a line in the sand and ask whats more important than days like today grab some beers call your friends and meet us here in the summer park with me and my friend Dan.

They're coming out of the walls, they're coming up through the streets,
they're quicksilver wracked by some invisible beat.
Right outside of your door the very stones come alive.
They are the spring in the step, the distant look in the eyes.

Put your Baudelaire away and come outside and play.
Me and all my friends are poets of the deed,
we're exactly what this country needs.
We scratch until we're drunk, we drink until we bleed.
We are what we believe.

Pentameter in attack, iambic pulse in the veins,
free verse powered of the street light mains,
an Iliad played out without a shadow of doubt
between the end of the club and the sun coming out.
Leave Kerouac at his desk, we have romance in our risks.

And here's what we believe: before we get bored, let's be inspired,
let's ignore the applause and set the theatre on fire,
fight every war like the drunks in the choir,
put our art where our mouths are: Poetry of the deed.

So enough with words and technical theses,
let's grab life by the throat and live it to pieces.
We can choose, we can change,
and if we don't, we're just afraid of living life like we're loved and in love and alive
to all the things we could be if we just believed that life is too short to be lived without poetry.
If you've got soul darling now come on and show it me.
But life is too long to just sing the one song,
so we'll burn like a beacon and then we'll be gone

So now the years are rolling by,
and it's not long since you and I could have been train drivers and astronauts.
And now we're stuck in furnished ruts,
but yet the thing that really cuts is that we can't remember how we got caught.
Filtered air, computer screens, muffled sighs and might-have-beens
count your blessings, then breathe, and count to ten.
And though it doesn't often show, we are scared
because we know our forefathers were famer's and fishermen.
And so the world has changed, worse or better's hard to tell,
but my hope remains within the arms of Isabel.
So now our calloused hands once told a story honest
as it's old of sowing seeds and setting sail.
But now our hands are soft and weak
and working seven days a week at these salvation schemes that are bound to fail.
And I'll admit that I am scared of what I don't understand.
But darling, if you're there, gentle voice and soothing hands,
to quiet my despair, to shore up all my plans, darling, if you're there...
And so the world has changed, and I must change as well.
The machines we've made will damn us into hell.
And the time will come when all must save themselves.
I will save my soul in the arms of Isabel.

I should have seen you were coming, I should have been prepared.
After all, getting half of what you wish for isn't so rare.
But still I wasn't ready, you took me by surprise,
you brought a light to my dark like a word from the wise.

Weather wears the mountains right down into the sea,
so I will stand in the rain until I am clean.

We fell in love in the summer, when the skies were clear,
but I'm still wearing my coat from winter last year.
I need to set my house in order, confess and cover my sins.
I need to make a home for you before inviting you in.

Weather wears the mountains right down into the sea,
so I will stand in the rain until I am clean.
Rivers carve the country, a landscape shaped by a stream,
so I will swim in the river for as long as you need.

I said, darling oh my darling you know that everything that I do
is to try and make me good enough for you.
Darling oh my darling you know that everywhere that I go,
I'm just trying to find the fastest way back home.

Darling oh my darling you know that everywhere that I go,
I'm just trying to find the fastest way back home.

Once an honest man could go from sunrise to its set
Without encountering agents of his state or government
But a sorry cloud of tyranny has fallen across the land
Brought on by hollow men, who did not understand
That for centuries our forefather have fought and often died
To keep themselves unto themselves, to fight the rising tide
And that if in the smallest battles we surrender to the state
We enter in a darkness whence we never shall escape

When they raise their hands up our lives to possess
To know our souls, to drag us down, we'll resist.

Watt Tyler led the people in 1381
To meet the king at Smithfield and issue this demand:
That Winchester's should be the only law across the land
The law of old King Alfred's time, of free and honest men.
Because the people then they understood what we have since forgot:
That a government will only work for its own benefit
And I'd rather stand up naked against the elements alone
Than give the hollow men the right to enter in my home

When they raise their hands up our lives to possess
To know our souls, to drag us down, we'll resist.

Stand up Sons of Liberty and fight for what you own
Stand up Sons of Liberty and fight, fight for for your homes.

So if ever a man should ask you for your business or your name
Tell him to go and fuck himself, tell his friends to do the same.
Because a man who'd trade his liberty for a safe and dreamless sleep
Doesn't deserve the both of them, and neither shall he keep.

Chorus
To the east to the east
The road beneath my feet
To the west to the west
I haven't got there yet
And to the north to the north
Never to be caught
To the south to the south
My time is running out

Ever since my childhood I've been scared I've been afraid
Of being trapped by circumstance and staying in one place
So I always keep a small bag full of clothes carefully stored
Somewhere secret somewhere safe
And somewhere close to the door

Well I've traveled many countries I've washed my feet in many seas
I've drunk with drifters in Vienna and with punks in old dc
And I've driven across deserts driven by the irony
That only being shackled to the the road could ever I be free

Chorus
To the east to the east
The road beneath my feet
To the west to the west
I haven't got there yet
And to the north to the north
Never to be caught
To the south to the south
My time is running out

I've felt old before my time but now I keep the age away
By burning up the miles and yeah by filling up my days
And the nights a thousand nights I've played
And a thousand more to go
Before I take a breath and steal myself
For the next one thousand shows

Chorus
To the east to the east
The road beneath my feet
To the west to the west
I haven't got there yet
And to the north to the north
Never to be caught
To the south to the south
My time is running out

Yes so saddle up your horses now and keep your powder dry
Cause the truth is you won't be here long
Yeah soon your going to die
To the heart to the heart there's no time for you to waste
You wont find your precious answers now by staying in one place
Yeah by giving up the chase

Chorus
To the east to the east
The road beneath my feet
To the west to the west
I haven't got there yet
And to the north to the north
Never to be caught
To the south to the south
My time is running out
To the south to the south
My time is running out
To the south to the south
My time is running out

I face the horizon everywhere I go
I face the horizon the horizon is my home
I face the horizon everywhere I go
I face the horizon the horizon is my home

Meet me on the edges of the city,
Meet me where the underground runs out.
Bring a pic nic blanket and your pity.
A pen and paper so I can write things down.

Mother, oh dear mother, I wasn't joking when I said,
That I plan to keep doing this until the day I'm dead.
And I'm not a mirror for you when you were young.
But I still remain your faithful only son.

Lately I've been feeling kind of fragile,
Lately I've been feeling all worn out.
What would any of us do, before the dreams that we had came to,
What would there be left to dream about.

Father, oh dear father, I'm not trying to reject,
The values that you held like winning cards up to your chest.
But I can't just do the things that you wish that you'd done,
Though I still remain your faithful only son.

The city, seems so still
When you're looking down, from Highgate Hill.
There's nothing left for us to say,
You taught me everything that I know,
YOu wouldn't miss me if I stayed,
You never see me if I go.

This is no confession no this is who I am
Make me in your image so you have to understand,
That I did my best as told and so've become,
You're loving and you're faithul only son.

Richard Divine made up his mind to take the last few steps
To the bathroom door from his bedroom floor and to lock himself in.
Steady young hands, meticulous plans,
Disposable razors and a blisterpack filled with strong sleeping pills,
And a bath of hot water.
He carefully wrote a funerary note
On his best writing paper to set out the facts,
And sealed it with wax, and left it in the kitchen.
He left it out so his parents would know what there was waiting for them:
Pale cold skin and blood seeping in to the landing carpet.
He said he's not for sale, said that he felt hounded,
Crowded and surrounded by this life he didn't choose.
But everybody plays this game on a daily basis.
They're not heroes, they're survivors,
And it's not Shakespearian if they lose.
So do what you want, do what the voices tell you,
But don't ever say that we didn't warn you.
He said he's not for sale, but he bought into his failure.
He's telling tales that hammer nails right into open palms.
A martyr in reverse, he's best at being worst,
The rest of us are cursed but we keep calm and we carry on.
So Richard, here it is: none of us are blameless, huddled here like strangers,
Shameless in our lists of all the changes we say we need.
But I think that you knew that,
You can't pretend it's news that when you cut yourself you'll bleed.

Sunday nights are slow surrender.
They'll never last and we'll never learn.
We can still make this one to remember.
It's Sunday night and we've time to burn.
And tomorrow morning can wait its turn.

Dodge your glasses, raise a toast,
To the memory game,
To the sleep that we've lost,
Another weekend ran to ground,
Another passing coat of red,
Painted across our town,
Work is shallow, cutting deep.
Who would waste two days respite,
Can't catch up on sleep,
So here we are, last chance to live,
Ticking clock and slow defeat.
It'll all be over soon.

Sunday nights are slow surrender.
They'll never last and we'll never learn.
We can still make this one to remember.
It's Sunday night and we've time to burn.
And tomorrow morning can wait its turn.

So once more friends unto the breach,
Bleary eyed, the stuff of dreams
Always slips out of reach,
Defiance dressed up,
Crumpled clothes,
Protest played out with a headache,
Starting late, we're going slow,
Don't we know we have to be there,
We have tasted freer air,
We don't have to care.

Sunday nights are slow surrender.
They'll never last and we'll never learn.
We can still make this one to remember.
It's Sunday night and we've time to burn.
And tomorrow morning can wait its turn.

All our days,
Will fade away,
And hazy nights,
And clear mistakes.
So here's to us,
Our needs that much,
Let's raise a toast,
For one last boast, cos
It's Sunday night and we've time to burn,
And tomorrow morning can wait its turn.

Tonight is her night, and the city holds is breath,
caught twixt life and death, as she rolls in from the suburbs,
the garrison flees and the city will burn.

Corinna rides like Boadicea tonight.
London town trembles at the sight.

Because tonight is her night.
And the youth course through the streets to lay down at her feet,
and she runs a regal eye to choose who lives and decide who dies.

Corinna rides like Boadicea tonight.
The fearful crowds part ways without a fight.
Corinna rides like Boadicea tonight.
London town trembles at the sight.

Beacuse tonight is her night.

She keeps her counsel, smiles when she speaks now, from ear to ear.
She's getting married, or so they tell me, when the spring is here.
She hums a tune from a song she knows from warm summers past,
a song that was sung by kids around campfires in the quiet southwest

Corinna rides like Boadicea tonight.
The fearful crowds part ways without a fight.
Corinna rides like Boadicea tonight.
London town trembles at the sight.

Beacuse tonight is her night.
Yeah tonight is her night
Yeah tonight is her night
Tonight is her night.

Moses was old, a chill in his bones.
Falling apart, he knew in his heart that his time had come.
As he lay in his tent in the hot desert sands,
He smiled at how he would never see his promised land.
He sang "I could have lived and died an Egyptian prince,
I could have played safe,
But in the end the journey's brought joys that outweigh the pain."
Odysseus sat tired and alone.
He'd always held out against all the doubts that he would come home.
But now he was here, his soul felt estranged.
His wife and his dog, his son and his Gods, everything changed.
He sang "I could have stayed and ruled as an Ithican prince,
I could've played safe.
But in the end the journey's brought joys that outweigh the pain."
Balthazar rode for seven long years, eastwards and far,
He followed his star, and it brought him here.
To a stable in ruins in some backwater town,
To a virgin defiled, no king but a child, too small for a crown.
He sang "I could have lived with my Gods as a Persian prince,
I could've played safe,
But in the end the journey's brought joys that outweigh the pain."
Paupers and kings, princes and thieves,
Singers of songs, righters of wrongs, be what you believe.
So saddle your horse and shoulder your load,
Burst at the seams, be what you dream, and take to the road