was just a careless driver

or

and now he's working in a job with a future........

"We've just been performing a guerilla gig
In the middle of another group's guerilla gig
Well surely that's the ultimate guerilla gig?
But still they cried like girls."

"well I've been here and I've been there
In my Joy Division oven gloves
I've been to a post-punk postcard fair
In my Joy Division oven gloves"

IN BLACK AND WHITE.

My life is comfortable
But I don't want that image for my band
Inside I'm reasonable
But I'll make out they just don't understand
When we don't feel well, let's
Put on some Velvets
Lean our guitars up against the amp

We get feedback
When I feel that I need that
Air of "look, aren't we dangerous"
That's the time to be bad

Intense, no compromise
Nasty evil, cracking up my brain
Hey, ho
She's gone to Spain with a load of mates from work
And I feel cursed and sore, like
I'm Thurston More-like
The darkness in my eyes won't go away

I get feedback
In my bedroom in Nantwich
Stamp my foot down on the amp switch
That's the time to be bad

Somebody's knocking on my door
And it's the boy from over the road
And he says he shares our obsessions
And he'd like to join in on the sessions
And the others aren't arsed either way
So I say

I think we'd better let him in
I've heard he's got a theremin

And I've seen him walk through the park a lot,
And I bet he listens to Arc a lot,

It'll most definately be worth it.

If you dont already have them then the albums 'Cammel Laird Social Club' and 'Trouble Over Bridgewater' are strokes of genius!

But then again you cant really go far wrong with any HMHB.

i'm going to see the bootleg beatles
as the bootleg mark chapman

'Now I’m no hotelier
Just thought I’d tell yer
Dead men don’t need season tickets'

Mention the Lord of the Rings one more time
And I'll more than likely kill you.
"More cock, more cock, Michael, more cock" you fervently moan.

We’re just receiving reports of an incident at a farm in Sussex where a number of people have been arrested in connection with “Annoying The Nation”.
It is believed that that the owner of the farm, a Mr. Hibbert, has been co-operating with Police and government officials in a plot codenamed Operation Less Pricks, and kindly granted the use of his seventeenth century tithe barn as a temporary holding place for those arrested. Although not confirmed, we are led to understand that those already charged include:
Bus drivers who don’t wait for people to sit down before pulling away from the bus stop;
Taxi drivers who use their horns instead of knocking on the door;
People who moan at the council about the streets being full of litter, not stopping to think that it is people who drop litter, not the council;
A room full of drama teachers listening to Bjork;
Grown men with replica shirts worn over their jumpers, who stand up and stretch out their arms when the opposing team fail to hit the target;
An assortment of scriptwriters, novelists and playwrights who own Agas but don’t know how to use them;
A musical equipment reviewer responsible for an article titled “Microphone of the Month”;
A woman who described herself as “A little bit Bridget, a little bit Ally, a little bit Sex In The City” and chose to call her baby boy Fred as a childishly rebellious attempt at a clever reaction to those who might have expected her to call him Julian or Rupert. Bit of advice: call him Rupert, it fits, and besides it’s a good name. Don’t be calling him Fred or Archie, with all its cheeky but lovable working class scamp connotations, unless you really do have plans for him to spend his life in William Hill’s waiting for them to weigh in at Newton Abbott.
Also being held is a whole wall full of teenagers spitting needlessly;
An amateur thug in camouflage trousers whose Japanese fighting dog had run amok on a Swindon council estate;
A man from the record company who said that George Michael continues to challenge social taboos through his music;
Lisa Riley;
Continuity announcers introducing comedy shows;
A pub band who get uppity when everyone goes to the bar during a song they’ve written themselves;
A group of football fans referred to as Commodores, as in once, twice, three times a season, who feed sugar lumps to police horses at Cup Finals;
An artist who said his next album would be more “song-based”;
A man who informs people that he gets up at six am every morning and seemed to want a medal;
People who say they speak as they find and are somehow proud of it;
Journalists who try to spell an interviewee’s laugh;
An organisation who declared an awareness week for awareness weeks;
And a council worker who dropped litter.
We’ll bring you more details as they emerge…

"Help me Mrs Medlicott I don't know what to do,
I've only got 3 bullets and there's 4 of Mothey Crue"

OR

"It's a cricketing farce with a thickening plot
Act 1 Scene 1 Brenda Blethyn gets shot"

Class!

If Jesus came to earth today
Thet'd crucify him straight away
Upon a cross of MDF
And they'd use 'No Need For Nails'.

I love that one

missed off the last line:

"If I'd had known they were coming I'd have slit me wrists"

Please find enclosed the latest demo from Liquid Greek. Dismissed by the mainstream as shoegazing also-rans, the band have nevertheless persevered with their off-kilter-or-nothing policy in the hope that someone like your good self will eventually realise, and thus promote, this violent yet ultimately beautiful genre, which we have dubbed 'new noise'.

The first track is based on the high-pitched lamentations of an unbalanced Lincoln woman, who nurses injured buzzards back to health in her dead child's wardrobe. We hope you like it.

Yours sincerely,
Liquid Greek

PS. We don't like sport of any kind, and friends at school are very much thin on the ground.

to buy more of these

i am so glad there are some poignant lyrics too..just how i imaginedit