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Nick Drake




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Nick Drake Album


Bryter Layter (11/01/1970)
11/01/1970
1.
Introduction
2.
3.
4.
5.
6.
Bryter Layter
7.
8.
9.
10.
Sunday
. . .

Introduction

[No lyrics]

. . .



And what will happen in the morning when the world it gets
so crowded that you can't look out the window in the morning.

And what will happen in the evening in the forest with the weasel
with the teeth that bite so sharp when you're not looking in the evening.

And all the friends that you once knew are left behind they kept you safe
and so secure amongst the books and all the records of your lifetime.

What will happen
In the morning
When the world it gets so crowded that you can't look out the window
in the morning.

Hey, take a little while to grow your brother's hair
And now, take a little while to make your sister fair.
And now that the family
Is part of a chain
Take off your eyeshade
Start over again.

Now take a little while to find your way in here
Now take a little while to make your story clear.
Now that you're lifting
Your feet from the ground
Weigh up your anchor
And never look round.

Let's sing a song
For Hazey Jane
She's back again in my mind.
If songs were lines
In a conversation
The situation would be fine.

. . .



A city freeze
Get on your knees
Pray for warmth and green paper.
A city drought
You're down and out
See your trousers don't taper.
Saddle up
Kick your feet
Ride the range of a London street
Travel to a local plane
Turn around and come back again.

And at the chime of the city clock
Put up your road block
Hang on to your crown.
For a stone in a tin can
Is wealth to the city man
Who leaves his armour down.

Stay indoors
Beneath the floors
Talk with neighbours only.
The games you play
Make people say
You're either weird or lonely.
A city star
Won't shine too far
On account of the way you are
And the beads
Around your face
Make you sure to fit back in place.

And at the beat of the city drum
See how your friends come in twos;
Or threes or more.
For the sound of a busy place
Is fine for a pretty face
Who knows what a face is for.

The city clown
Will soon fall down
Without a face to hide in.
And he will lose
If he won't choose
The one he may confide in.
Sonny boy
With smokes for sale
Went to ground with a face so pale
And never heard
About the change
Showed his hand and fell out of range.

In the light of a city square
Find out the face that's fair
Keep it by your side.
When the light of the city falls
You fly to the city walls
Take off with your bride.

But at the chime of a city clock
Put up your road block
Hang on to your crown.
For a stone in a tin can
Is wealth to the city man
Who leaves his armour down.

. . .



I could have been a sailor, could have been a cook
A real live lover, could have been a book.
I could have been a signpost, could have been a clock
As simple as a kettle, steady as a rock.
I could be
Here and now
I would be, I should be
But how?
I could have been
One of these things first
I could have been
One of these things first.

I could have been your pillar, could have been your door
I could have stayed beside you, could have stayed for more.
Could have been your statue, could have been your friend,
A whole long lifetime could have been the end.
I could be yours so true
I would be, I should be through and through
I could have been
One of these things first
I could have been
One of these things first.

I could have been a whistle, could have been a flute
A real live giver, could have been a boot.
I could have been a signpost, could have been a clock
As simple as a kettle, steady as a rock.
I could be even here
I would be, I should be so near
I could have been
One of these things first
I could have been
One of these things first.

. . .



Do you curse where you come from,
Do you swear in the night
Will it mean much to you
If I treat you right.
Do you like what you're doing,
Would you do it some more
Or will you stop once and wonder
What you're doing it for.
Hey slow Jane, make sense
Slow, slow, Jane, cross the fence.

Do you feel like a remnant
Of something that's past
Do you find things are moving
Just a little too fast.
Do you hope to find new ways
Of quenching your thirst,
Do you hope to find new ways
Of doing better than your worst.
Hey slow Jane, let me prove
Slow, slow Jane, we're on the move.

Do it for you,
Sure that you would do the same for me one day.
So try to be true,
Even if it's only in your hazey way.

Can you tell if you're moving
With no mirror to see,
If you're just riding a new man
Looks a little like me.
Is it all so confusing,
Is it hard to believe
When the winter is coming
Can you sign up and leave.
Hey slow Jane, live your lie
Slow, slow jane, fly on by.

. . .

Bryter Layter

[No lyrics]

. . .



Please give me a second grace
Please give me a second face
I've fallen far down
The first time around
Now I just sit on the ground in your way

Now if it's time to recompense for what's done
Come, come sit down on the fence in the sun
And the clouds will roll by
And we'll never deny
It's really too hard for to fly.

Please tell me your second name
Please play me your second game
I've fallen so far
For the people you are
I just need your star for a day.

So come, come ride in my my street-car by the bay
For now I must know how fine you are in your way
And the sea sure as I
But she won't need to cry
For it's really too hard for to fly.

. . .



Never sing for my supper
I never help my neighbour
Never do what is proper
For my share of labour.

I'm a poor boy
And I'm a rover
Count your coins and
Throw them over my shoulder
I may grow older
Nobody knows
How cold it grows
And nobody sees
How shaky my knees
Nobody cares
How steep my stairs
And nobody smiles
If I cross their stiles.

Oh poor boy
So sorry for himself
Oh poor boy
So worried for his health.
You may say every day
Where will he stay tonight.

Never know what I came for
Seems that I've forgotten
Never ask what I came for
Or how I was begotten.

I'm a poor boy
And I'm a ranger
Things I say
May seem stranger than Sunday
Changing to Monday.
Nobody knows
How cold it flows
And nobody feels
The worn down heels
Nobody's eyes
Make the skies
Nobody spreads
Their aching heads.

Oh poor boy
So worried for his life
Oh poor boy
So keen to take a wife.

He's a mess but he'll say yes
If you just dress in white.

Nobody knows
How cold it blows
And nobody sees
How shaky my knees
Nobody cares
How steep my stairs
And nobody smiles
If you cross their stiles.

Oh poor boy
So sorry for himself
Oh poor boy
So worried for his health.
You may say every day
Where will he stay tonight.

Oh poor boy
So worried for his life
Oh poor boy
So keen to take a wife.

Oh poor boy
So sorry for himself
Oh poor boy
So worried for his health
Oh poor boy.

. . .



I never felt magic crazy as this
I never saw moons knew the meaning of the sea
I never held emotion in the palm of my hand
Or felt sweet breezes in the top of a tree
But now you're here
Brighten my northern sky.

I've been a long time that I'm waiting
Been a long that I'm blown
I've been a long time that I've wandered
Through the people I have known
Oh, if you would and you could
Straighten my new mind's eye.

Would you love me for my money
Would you love me for my head
Would you love me through the winter
Would you love me 'til I'm dead
Oh, if you would and you could
Come blow your horn on high.

I never felt magic crazy as this
I never saw moons knew the meaning of the sea
I never held emotion in the palm of my hand
Or felt sweet breezes in the top of a tree
But now you're here
Brighten my northern sky.

. . .

Sunday

[No lyrics]

. . .


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