1. |
Jean-Paul Sartre
04:27
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I came across a grocer
Who used to be a teacher
He said "The thing is this my friend
I prefer the fruits of Eden"
He sold me an apple
But the apple had a worm
Then I bought some cheap red wine
'Cos things weren't right
Then the moon replaced the sun
And when all was said and done
It's significance escaped me
Hitched down to Le Havre
Saw the house of Jean-Paul Sartre
Bought a paperback I didn't understand
Don't you know there's less to life than this?
And then it rained.
I sat in a cafe where Hemmingway drank coffee
And the Pernod and the Gitanes made me think for a while
Of canvass and colours and Poetry and prose
And I wrote in my diary "nothing happened today"
Said a tender goodbye to the house of Jean-Paul
I gave the book to a wino who said this to me
"Philosophy's for fools with too much time to spare
It's too hot to argue man, I'm too drunk to care"
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2. |
Frida and Diego
03:06
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Took a rainy walk from the National Gallery
Had a frothy coffee at Patisserie Valerie
With all those important people
Who like to let you know
They're so exciting
I thought we were the perfect couple
How we touched magnificence
But then you turned to me and spoke
You said "No, no, no...
Just look at Frida and Diego
Frida and Diego"
Now I'm not interested in art from Mexico
And I don't know much
All I know is what I've read
I know that Frida Kahlo's dead
And I'm sorry it was years ago
Now look at Frida and Diego
Frida and Diego
Now every Sunday in the Plaza De La Roza
She lights a lonely little candle
And she kneels softly in the chapel
And then she prays for
Frida and Diego
Frida and Diego
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3. |
Beckett Country
03:49
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We watched the coal burn down
In the fireplace
I made you
One of your favourite dishes
And I thought to myself
I'm in love
And the damp on the walls
I thought was a real touch of atmosphere
But you were so so disappointed
By the standard of accommodation
But I don't see what you're complaining about
It's Beckett country
It's the place I was born to be
Beckett country
If you're quiet for a while
And you'd just listen
There's an old dog barking
And a solitary man
He hears the thunderous sound
Of the cruellest land
It's Beckett country
Can you see in my face
The pain of sixty years?
Like rings inside a tree
You can count each misery
Now she reads aloud
That fucking dismal poetry
I’m in Beckett country
It's the place I don't deserve to be
Beckett country
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4. |
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The acid tears of those that cried
For all those ships that never came
Now with only quiet desperation
She scrubs the floors
Of rat shit rooms
The second hand quivers
And falls into place
And Howard drags his fingers
Through his face
And firework dreams die in the rain
There’s nothing bright or beautiful
Those fifteen wonderful wasted summers
Were the dying days of Howard Hughes
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