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Includes unlimited streaming via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality downloads of Ball of the Century, Open Up The Pit EP, I Feel Drunk All The Time, and Andre The Giant EP.
1. |
Open Up The Pit
04:50
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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
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2. |
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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
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3. |
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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.
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4. |
While The Radio Plays
06:48
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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...
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5. |
Up In The Gods
03:50
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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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Harry Harris Edinburgh, UK
Harry Harris is a Welsh songwriter, based in Edinburgh.
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