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Open Up The Pit EP

by Harry Harris

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1.
The bodies cover the floor They're sipping their first beer, they're just getting started It's a Saturday night in July, it's hot as hell and I'm haywire We're in the basement of a hotel, hidden where the people can't see We're the opening act, and we go on in three The headline band have come from out of town Four Ks in Kerrang for their last EP And The Early November gave them a shout out on stage More quotes for the posters, more fuel for the flames They've brought a guitar tech, I think he's their friend They've got coke in the van, they're down for the weekend We're the opening act, and we're better than them I wrap the microphone cable around my fist Black stamp on the back of my hand I look down at my feet for the setlist And I don't think anyone's paying attention, so we better make them start paying attention Turn to the drummer, say go heavy on the double-chain drive We're the opening act, yeah, we're the best band alive And the next thirty minutes went by in a blur Sweat clung to the walls like they were bleeding One foot on the wedge, feel the monitor roar Open up the pit! We're the opening act, and we're killing it And the bodies are hitting the floor Fists swings in great lurching arcs We finish our song, they're screaming for more Couple kids ask for autographs It's a Saturday night in July, it's hot as hell and I'm haywire We're in the basement of a hotel, where our story begins, We're the opening act, and we'll see you again
2.
I saw James Bond at the airport, in 1983 On the south east coast of France, I'd been on holiday And I thought I smelt like coconuts, and I didn't look cool When I saw James Bond at the airport, buckles shining on his shoes And I thought he had a walkie talkie concealed in his hand He kept looking at his briefcase, must have had something planned Ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, I can feel it, something's not right I sure hope James Bond is on my flight Well I thought I'd keep a lookout, my grandfather took a nap James Bond was looking at the souvenir stand so I was watching James Bond's back And the young girl selling orange juice at the orange juice stand Looked at James Bond in a way that I didn't understand And the fruit split down the middle, each half tumbling away But was it laced with poison? I wouldn't risk it anyway Ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, I can feel it, something's not right I sure hope James Bond is on my flight I sure hope James Bond is on my flight Well has Blofeld got his hitmen stationed undercover James Bond will stay and fight them, and you know he'll win no bother And the man withdrawing currency, how much is he getting? Are the pilots in disguise? Are there assassins at the check-in? I saw James Bond at the airport I'm telling you that was James Bond at the airport Pretty sure that was James Bond at the airport
3.
The first time I had steak tartare was piled up on a chip. You were treating me to lunch, no occasion, we had just met. In some East London piano bar, where perfectly you fit. You knew the chef, the maitre'd, the pianist. And it was too early to be drinking, but I'm certain we were drinking, and in the fuzz I thought the fog would lift. But instead further it descended. And our short romance it ended. Or retreated, before it toppled off a cliff.
4.
I am woken by gulls, they caw as they circle the sky And the fog in the air brings a tear to this young woman's eye And I make enough coffee for two, 'cause this force of habit's like gravity's pull Some days it grounds me, some days it just weighs me down And it's Viking, North Utsire, South Utsire My love is far from here German bight, Humber and Thames, The rain falls like bombs now and then Shannon, West Malin and Hebrides Oh to think of those breathing seas Fair isles and Faeroes, How hard the wind blows these days While the radio plays And this town is so quiet, it's just weddings and funerals and tides While you're stood on the starboard in storms with a pole and a line And I don't know how you stay on your feet I've seen you fall into gutters at three sheets You say you leave your ring by your cot, just in case And it's Viking... And you're going to come back, you tell me whenever you leave But when you come back, darling, it's the briefest reprieve And I don't know if I can take it much longer 'Cause I'm getting older but I'm not getting stronger But you whisper "Darling, I love you. Darling, I love you. Darling, I love you." And it's Viking...
5.
The grass is a quagmire, and I've missed the last train Glad I've snuck in a couple of beers to the game And the players look knackered as they line up at half way And up in the Gods, we all hold our breath As the striker shakes cramp from out of his legs Know they're all digging deep for one final feat And I'm not a man of faith But desperate times call for desperate means of escape And what I cannot stand is the wait before the walk The low hum of nerves, the sound of the lights Our man walks to the spot, we think he's carrying a knock He sets the ball down in white, and he hits it top right, he's clinical And I watch as their centre half takes aim and fires Oh high, wide and handsome, we sing and we dance And we rattle the firmament, we breathe, we give thanks And I'm not a spiritual man, I never thought anyone other than me had a plan But I look down and I'm clutching both of my hands together We move between silence and rapture Counting up all of the unlikely blessings we gather From way, way, way, way up in the Gods Hallelujah! Hallelujah! We put on our coats, head for the gates Wait for the colour to return to our faces Maybe this is what faith is

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released July 3, 2020

All songs written, recorded and produced by Harry Harris.

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Harry Harris Edinburgh, UK

Harry Harris is a Welsh songwriter, based in Edinburgh.

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