1. |
When The Rain Stops
05:57
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When the rain stops
The boulevards are singing
With the glorious refrain
Of a thousand lovelorn starlings
Finding love again
When the rain stops
The pavements bear the patter
Of a woman’s hurried gait
For, on the corner, he is waiting
With the patience of a saint
When the rain stops
An umbrella is discarded
In the bushes of the park
A coach escapes the traffic
And the tourists disembark
When the rain stops
That first cigarette
Is a signal to all men
That life is there for living
And we will not live again
When the rain stops
In the garden of the chapel
A catalogue of roses
Bow their heads like widowed brides
A priest removes a bookmark
And a soldier steps outside
When the rain stops
The rooftops, they are subject
To the greyness of the grave
Clouds, they disentangle
And they go their separate ways
In the hotel, Saint Germain
You are sleeping like a dream
I would love to be your mirror
To see what it has seen
But instead, I cross the river
To the peals of Notre Dame
I’ve convinced you I’m a lion
When, in truth, I am a lamb
The vendors lift their hatches
And they’re shaking off the rain
And the sun it breaks its cover
And it dances on the Seine
Like a golden ballerina
To a glorious refrain
It’s all picture postcard perfect
And I cannot tell a lie
If you told me this was heaven
Then I would gladly die
If you told me this was heaven
I would just lay down and die
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2. |
Actresses Who Sing
05:36
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I’ve developed a thing
For actresses who sing
All the critics and the cynics
Sayin, “Leave it to the pros”
They’re all sharpening their knives
But the critics and the cynics
Leave such uneventful lives
Well, I’m not one to judge
My star has long burnt out
I’ve had my fifteen minutes
Well, five or thereabouts
When your face on the side of a bus
Just isn’t enough
When thirty million gross
Does nothing for your soul
There’s a residency in Soho
With a small supporting cast
A theatre bar and restaurant
Playing West Coast jazz
All the majors lining up
All the sycophantic fucks
“Just sign here on this line
And leave the rest to us”
In the press release, a footnote
Well, in case you didn’t know
She played a Spanish festival
Not so very long ago
And the album, though well-intentioned
Not to everybody’s taste
Produced by son of rockstar
Disappeared without a trace
All the critics and the cynics
Sayin, “Leave it to the pros”
But what do they know?
What the fuck do they know?
But me, I bought your album
And I played it more than twice
And from one artiste to another
I offer this advice :
When you get to album two
Do what the fuck you want to do
When you get to album two
Do what the fuck you want to do
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3. |
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Got to let some light into my life
Got to let some light into my life
Well, there’s a girl who seems to like me
At the bakery in town
But I’m too shy to talk to her
In case she turns me down
In a fantasy so twisted
Like a car crash in reverse
Even though she seems to like me
I’m imagining the worst
Got to let some light into my life
Got to let some light into my life
I told my neighbour of my plight
That I can’t tell the day from night
He said, “Those curtains, they’ve been closed too long
Black dog, be gone, be gone”
Got to let some light into my life
Got to let some light into my life
Got to let some light into my life
Or the darkness, it will come
Got to let some light into my life
Got to let some light into my life
Got to let some light into my life
Or the darkness, it will come
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4. |
Leaves Upon The Breeze
04:01
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Well, thank you for coming
I am cheered on by the thought
That you bought yourself a ticket
When you really should not ought
And you dressed for the occasion
In a dress that tells no lies
There’s a subtlety of make-up
That amplifies your eyes
For all the expectation
For all the reverie
For all the fond illusion
We are leaves upon the breeze
For all the self-deception
For all the make believe
For all the wishful thinking
We are leaves upon the breeze
Our conversation, stilted
We are locks without a key
A younger man would whisk you home
You’d have him on his knees
So, we talk about the weather
And you say you can’t stay long
And from the corner of my retina
You leave, mid-song
There is nothing in my repertoire
That will keep you in this room
My music is a sinking ship
My voice, a lead balloon
But thank you for coming
I am cheered on by the thought
That you bought yourself a ticket
When you really should not ought
For all the expectation
For all the reverie
For all the fond illusion
We are leaves upon the breeze
For all the self-deception
For all the make believe
For all the wishful thinking
We are leaves upon the breeze
For all the expectation
For all the reverie
For all the fond illusion
We are leaves upon the breeze
For all the self-deception
For all the make believe
For all the wishful thinking
We are leaves upon the breeze
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Second Language Music London, UK
London-based independent record label, 2009 - present day. www.secondlanguagemusic.com
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