Here you can find the complete lyrics to the STAVKA and National Debt albums 'Against the Programme', 'Tunnel Vision Time', and the three non-album tracks from the The National Debt 'Parzival' EP. All lyrics were composed by Andy Lightfoot, with the exception of 'Anna From Havana' and 'When Too Much is Never Enough', which were written in conjunction with Brendan McGowan. All material © 2002. No unauthorised usage or reproduction without the author's prior consent.
Clicking on the song title below will take you to the lyrics for that particular song:
We're all in a hell
Of our own making
We're all in a hell
Everyone faking
Dig in deeper, Lighthouse Keeper
Words are cheaper, soundless weeper
No more aces, secret places
Worried faces – check your mirror!
We're all in a hell
Of our own making
We're all in a hell
Everyone shaking
Cheerful greetings, silent cheatings
Brutal beatings in the sheetings
Guilty shifting, wayward drifting
Mass shoplifting in the suburbs!
We're all in a hell
Of our own making
We're all in a hell
No giving, just taking
Kill your feelings for your dealings
Drunken reelings under ceilings
No confessing, window dressing
Soul repressing – Arbeit macht Frei!
How come there is no truth?
History has to have some proof
Or all our pasts are washed away
All that's left is just today.
Who won the wars in the past?
What will you teach them in your class?
Winners write defining lines
Absolve themselves of any crimes
Yanks are strong and white and true
And Germans are all Nazis too.
Kursk has no place in Hollywood
“'Coz those Commies would've got us if they could”
And our heroes chewing gum, they won the day
“Dresden? Well, someone just had to pay.”
Some deem their suffering unique
A travesty to make you weep
Aggressors paint themselves in white
And keep the carnage out of site.
There are millions who know nothing of the past
Or a filtered rosy myth that's made to last
A picture of a nation free from blame
Letting politicians make us fight again.
You are a fool
And you know you are a tool
In the cold machine that serves no dream
The system; wisdom has eluded you for years
Striving for the top
Don't you know you're for the chop?
Can't you see the signs, you're past your prime
They'll shop you, drop you
When they've drained out your last blood
Close your eyes
Aren't you wise?
You've got all that you want
But not quite alright
You're sensing something now…
Dance upon your strings
As the Master clips your wings
The shadowed face with graveyard grace
Is nearing, cheering as you stumble through the maze
Surfaces conceal
The randomness that's real
The perspectives that you cannot face
Are chasing, lacing all your schemes with nagging doubts
Strive for adventure
Crawl from the desk
Hoist up thy rucksack
And take your well-earned rest
Horizon's a billboard
The sky is a dome
Stars are all fashioned
From silicon and chrome
Out in the jungle
The tiger did roar
From a new theme park
Behind a prison door
The Arctic was plastic
Aurora was fake
The tourists had been there
And eaten all their cake
To space for adventure
The final frontier
They'd strewn it with garbage
And jetted up to leer
New vistas unbounded
New playgrounds to soil
Fresh species to wipe out
And cultures to spoil
Kick the baby
Into freedom
Past the sentries
And their entries
This is nowhere!
Kick the baby
Into moments
Wild with fury
Hang the jury
This is nowhere!
Shaking hands with Old Man Time
His gnarled old fingers caked with grime
Passing through the Sphinx's eye
Ask your riddles, tell no lies
Worship icons on your desktop – 1,2,3
Copy pirates, patches pile up – spaghetti
The Genie smiles and grants you three
A thousand jokes will follow me
I met some wise men heading west
But none of them had passed the test
This programme has performed an illegal operation
And you will be shut down shortly
And your files all erased…
Place names, boundaries on the earth
Stake a claim to prove your worth
Fences, wires surround your home
But how far down can you still own?
Feudal groupings thick as blood
Their bigotry lies in the mud
Defining 'us' and damning 'them'
It's tunnel vision time again.
Futile pride in new-born kin
Identity through childrens' skin
Mold them into narrow minds
To perpetuate your kind.
'Same' is good and 'difference' wrong
Cast out those who don't belong
A dreary grey homogeny
Where deep in chains they feel they're free.
What the hell gives you the right
To condemn every viewpoint in sight
And fanatically shout out your creed
Ignoring the cultural needs
Toleration and good will are what you and your clique will teach
While condemning all that's different, never practice what you preach
Tape-loops of scripture will drone
There's no taste in these dry old bones
The junkies are chanting their words
Humourless fascists, absurd…
Said Mr. Clean-cut
"Do what you're told
And tie those dreams up
They've all been sold
You signed this paper
You're now our girl
We're going to rape her
And screw the whole world"
Said Mr. Better
"You will arrive
At our request
And be alive
As long as needed
To shovel shit
And not be heeded
One little bit
All this is surface
You will conform
To join our circus
And be the norm
You'll fill out papers
And be here late
Join in our capers
Embrace our state
Of holy sainthood
A dried-up clan
Of pious falsehood
And surface man
You will be modest
And sacrifice
Your time and leisure
That would be nice
When there's recession
We'll cut your pay
Increase your burdens
Prolong the day
A real team player
You're one of us
(Though you're not equal)
You have no trust.
We won't inform you
What's going on
But always blame you
When things go wrong.
The Captain pulls into the shore
The cryptic author takes on board his subjects
SOE and gravity gyrate
Forming into labyrinthine shapes that hold us
Fact and fiction blended into one
A density as of the sun which serves to blind us
Trajectories that intersect and fall away
A hidden plan of random moves behind every day
An aging man who seeks to hide
But do his written words provide the answers?
Go to libraries and erase
All of the traces and the praise of greatness
Like a shady figure from his tales
Idiosyncratic acts prevail, defining
You feel the blast before you hear any sound
Like watching reels of scratchy film as they are rewound
(Intsrumental)
Wake up and pain;
Mild distain your refrain.
Take the same train
In the rain with no brain.
Kill hours of lead
Dreams of bed fill your head.
Bow, scrape and smile
In a while the last mile.
Back on the tracks
Sleep attacks suits and macs
Time slips away
Holidays gone astray.
'Elegant and wide', she said
While jumping from the ledge
There's nothing like a compliment
Whilst on the razor's edge
'I'd rather see this one in red'
He said with gritted teeth
And severed through the arteries
To see what lay beneath
'Black, no sugar', she declared
And gulped some arsenic down
But thinking the bouquet was wrong
Gave her a final frown
'Too much starch', he mused inside
Whilst looking at his shirt
'And strange how dangling from a rope
Doesn't seem to hurt.'
Peel back onion layers to reveal a space
Kaleidoscopic slide into a Buddha's face
The Ur-Man, golden goodness with a smoothed-down brain
Stoned and smiling, blank and knowingly insane
Now clothe this God in music
A symphony of all our woes
A tune that darkens as it grows
Awkward beats are blinding
As leaden measures fill the air
Ur-Man smothered like a mummy in its tomb
The Shadow screaming 'let me back inside the womb'
A dull projection, jerky visions fade away
Dream-like glimpses, only fingerprints remain
The God a lumpen statue
A stumbling blinded figurine
As hordes of humans flee the scene
Not knowing their own basis
Looking at themselves they scream
Ur-Man's missing – have you seen this smiling face?
Big reward – for details you should watch this space
Last known whereabouts – somewhere that's deep inside
The more you seek him out, the more he tries to hide
All honour to those left outside
The ones in chains and the ones denied
Those who refused to conform, comply
To take the bait and to live a lie
Set dials to 'max' and dim the lights,
The longest ride is in our sights
From alphabet to sesame
We break the cords that set us free
And sinking low, we must capsize
It fits like scales across the eyes
Are falling out, irradiate
An emblem for our present state
So flick the switch and slide inside
A jellied eel that multiplied
And spread its wings to reach the sun
The ending of his tail's begun…
Lick the devil's wounds
Let your gold crown down
Fear of the dark
Pavlov and his dog
Categorise a frame
Sign upon a map
Stake your own claim
In Vlad's stone heart
We will not harbour secrets and their meanings
Only falling back through days
We will get there in the failing light of dusk
Ego, our disease
Grains upon the shore
Kings within our walls
So shove your job
You pompous apes
The meteor's on its way.
(Instrumental)
(random samples lifted from an English language instruction tape)
That's
just what Americans do sometimes
He
didn't hurt you or anything, did he?
That's
just what Americans do sometimes
Sounds
fishy!
Yes,
definitely
Uh-huh
What
for?
I'm
quitting the bang
That's
just what Americans do sometimes
Have
you been to Burma recently?
Yes,
definitely
I'm
an archaeologist
Uh-huh
I
spent the night at my mother's
What
for?
That's
just what Americans do sometimes
He
didn't hurt you or anything did he?
I'm
an archaeologist
Oh
really?
That's
just what Americans do sometime
Oh
really?
Have
you been to Burma recently?....
Oh
teach me of
Your
ancient lore
Reality's
a bore
I
am a knight
Upon
the mound
I
plunge a plastic sword
Into
the ground
A
milkman me
I
dream of runes
And
dance to Celtic tunes
Oh
Arthur King
You
will return
My
foolish notions
Of
the past confirm
Parzival,
can I drag from your runic spliff?
And
Fisher-King, could you give me a quick ring?
My
kids miss school
My
wife, she smells
She
doesn't wash her armpits well
We
only eat
What's
from the ground
We're
emaciated, stinking
New
Age clowns
Let's
all go
Into
the trees
We'll
live just like the birds and bees
And
claim our cash
From
the evil state
To
buy our dope
And
bottled beer in crates
We
know the truth
We've
seen the light
We
exercise our given right
You
men in suits
You've
got it wrong
To
sleep rough with the dogs
Is
to belong
On
old lay lines
And
Offa's dyke
In
smocks of green we hike
Men
of the Grail
A
plastic cup
We
filled with piss and drowned our smoking butts
What
I'm doing here makes no sense
It's
time to get right down of the fence
Waiting
for my brain to implode
Heavy
hand to take on my load now - just for now
- to you I bow
Every
time I close my eyes tight
A
golden picture comes into sight
Breughel's
figures walking slowly
Preacher
man defends the lowly mass - a great morass
- and Lubert Das
Landscapes
moved and mountains crumbled
Locusts
rose and icons tumbled
The
sea returned to fill the spaces
And
we abandoned sacred places for - the open door
Time
went on, I gained my sixth sense
Took
an axe and cut down the fence
Threw
my books into the water
Sacrificed
my only daughter to - all of you
I-Palindrome-I,
locked in the skies for days
I-Palindrome-I,
sandpaper-dry, amazed
I-Palindrome-I,
kids scream and cry, dismayed
I-Palindrome-I,
eight miles high, delayed
Hanging
in this hunk of steel
Defying
nature's rules
Is
this chicken's leg for real
Or
are all we all mad fools?
Swaying
in the bog on high
Scared
to take a dump
Ugly
in the mirror's eye
Miss
the pan when there's a bump
Shaking
wings and scraping sounds
That
headrest in your face
Chronic
turbulence abounds
Squeezed
inside this minute space
Forty-three
miles to go
To
find the life eternal
Shoeshine
boys don't know
That
earthly days are diurnal
Digging
down in the snow
To
seek a guide paternal
In
this two-faced comedy show
Directed
by a colonel
Tell
me what I need
To
dive into this danger
Planting
secret safety seeds
In
middle-eastern mangers
Forcing
thoughts to breed
In
copulating strangers
Causing
your knees to bleed
Once
you've all signed disclaimers
Spoon-fed
sardine men take salad days and gaze at their world
Complaining
from the wardrobe of delays that says they are girls
So
grow that beard out when the moon's in phase, the rays will unfurl
And
steer your raft through amber reefs and bays, these days are mere words
Wrap
her flesh round my bones
And
mix me into your bloodstream
Disconnect
the phone
Let's
a plan of the grand scheme
Where
waxen dolls are cloned
And
needles sew lines up the red seams
'Till
all death is postponed
And
heaven comes in wet dreams
Thirty-two
minutes to go
And
I'm waiting here with a chainsaw
Nothing
left to show
Of
the ice-pick wound that I once bore
A
token for those who know
And
realise what they came for
To
suck the seeds that grow
And
walk away through a new door
Do
you wonder about the connection
Between
El Greco and a twelve-inch erection in glass?
Have
you remembered the cure for amnesia?
Open
your heart to that terminal seizure and smile
Have
you made a booking for your full-board in heaven?
Please
change three sixes for an uneven seven of clubs
Have
you considered the paths of your future
A
nymph in custard or a cerebral suture to boast?
These
are the days of warmth and wine
Consume
the pearls destined for swine
Comb
your teeth and brush your hair
And
set your feet upon God's stair
Do
you wonder why your hairline's receding?
Your
just the product of a century's inbreeding in fields
Have
you worked out the way that you're going?
You're
vacillating and your to-ing and fro-ing to where?
I
think your rantings are pure erudition
Steeped
in manure but not come to fruition like shrubs
Your
assets shrinking, your manly dimension
A
bag of walnuts and a misapprehension to boot
Forcing
thoughts into a hole
Trying
not to lose control
As
I take my tools and build
Squint
at maps that fade away
Shut
down thought beyond today
To
contain what can't be willed
The
square and compass are my friends
They
keep me on this road
Pitch
and stone can make amends
And
help to bear the load
Others
dream of shining stars
Or
lie anaesthetised in bars
But
I preach the level ground
Straight
and narrow through this age
Houses
can contain your rage
And
the cold stone calm you down
And
I have found this millstone kind
A
comfort to the soul
A
surety that's deaf and blind
A
true and ancient role
Motherless
man, I'm a motherless man
And
I'm trying to do the best I can
But
I'm a ship without the sea
A
china cup without the tea
I'm
not certain of my worth
I
wasn't present at my birth
Military
man, I'm a military man
And
I'm trying to take out all I can
I
found the fire before the pan
But
couldn't find out who I am
I'm
a merchant without wares
I
sold my stocks for falling shares
Spiritual
man, I'm a spiritual man
And
I try to find God where I can
But
I'm a Bible without words
Harmonic
hymn without the thirds
A
healthy man who seeks a cure
A
Jezebel who's white and pure
Sensitive
man, I'm a sensitive man
And
I'll try to listen to all your plans
But
I'm an analyst unpaid
A
counselor who's gone insane
I'm
absorbing all your woes
But
deep inside my madness grows
Paralysed
in the face of an avalanche
Headlight
tractor beams blaze
Mind
is clear and fixed on a fantasy
Far
away from here
They
all say 'book into that pension plan'
They
all say 'career'
But
I'm absorbed with insects beneath my feet
I'm
absorbed with fear
Fit
that square peg into a different hole
But
it all goes wrong
Your
collars and ties are strangling me slowly
Can't
sing the words to your song
Perhaps I should've been born in 1359
(Items from a random word generator strung together into sentences)
Adam
tucks the ark whilst bushed brats hang
from
conic DNA and rows of fangs
Spry
DTs are taking out the dusk
And
buses in the forest smell of musk
Afros
in the air, a tomcat warning
Your
pyjamas burst in pale white dawning
Romano
bugs suck iodine in time
Par
excellence in gabled pubs sublime
The
loincloth news I siphon out to qualm
Heavy
water glee unzips their charm
An
issue of the moaning rags, the bongos reel and toss
Giant
acres and fish roe are walking over moss
The
matter flows in Savoy fags who whop the cues, dear hunch
with
your hi-fi be-bop strum you cork your chocolate crunch
(sound collage, featuring lo-fi clips of Andy's previous musical incarnations going back to 1980)
Wouldn't
it be nice to be a stranger?
Wouldn't
it be nice to hear glass break?
Wouldn't
it be nice to be a hero?
Wouldn't
it be nice to be a fake, to hear glass break?
Another
northern light in a southern town
Going
on down in a neon gown
And
if you confess, off comes the dress
Walking
through the trees on the sacred mound, neon gown
Anna
from Havana
Can
I please watch you come, yeah
For
sailors and muscular mermaids
Watch
your stockings come undone
Isn't
there a reason for this madness?
Isn't
there a light to show the way?
Isn't
there a cure for all this sadness?
Isn't
there some gold to find today, show the way?
An
identity defined
By
colours shapes and lines
By
molecular constructs draped round your frame
A
second skin, a name
We
are slaves to a false philosophy
That
surface reflects back all there is to see
A
divisive lie that bisects society
A
coloured flag of pride
More
rotting meat to hide
When
you pull up the corners the content's the same
The
frightened face of shame
Fingers
point and tongues will lash
Joseph's
coat is made of cash
Adorning
the mutton with meaningless words
A
rationale absurd
The
myth of these lines
Is
what we find
It
could be ongoing
To-ing
or fro-ing
The
reasons we're here
It's
meaningless fear
To
call ......?
God,
I think
The
cold cuts
It's
baggage
Inge
with the hands of a man, she's more man than me
Inge
with a face like a pan with Dutch elm disease
Inge
with a laugh like a scream in a dream turned black
Inge
with the skin dried and thin like a board that's cracked
She's
quoting Monty P. and buttering her bread
Despite
her childlike songs there's evil in her head
She's
sliced-bread thin, there's no way in
To
get what she deserves
She's
dried up dust and flaking crust
No
must to preserve
Don't
keep one in reserve
She's
made of rotten wood, her mind a shelf of books
On
battered females in Honduras hanging from some hooks
On
and on she's screaming, shouting
With
her shithead friend
A
wall-eyed ET clone
Whose
half-arsed talent never ends
As
cheese-heads pretend
'Mongst
scattered papers the screen-play writer found dead
All
those whisky-soaked punch-lines die in his head
Completed
nothing today, nothing done, total waste of time
Empty
bottles of gin, the lights grow dim
No
more hung over mornings lying in bed
The
faded manuscripts will be forever unread
Water-pipe
vibrates, ventilates, as it fills your lungs
All
your money's lent, your talent spent
Just
another casualty of fame
Verse,
chorus, verse, sometimes refrain
Endless
summer creeps into the room
And
jaded brides will have their sterile grooms
Through
the shutters the cameras get their big chance
Framing
pictures of a rising star's last dance
Life
served up on film, painless cuts, like a sword through silk
A
life immortalised by fame
The
pressure's building and deadlines are on fire
The
record's nowhere and fans begin to tire
Teeter
on the edge, truth is here, and the daylight comes
A
rude awakening : death sells
Standing
here in cold and fear
This
climate fuels my sorrow
The
smell of smoke, some shifty bloke
The
tramps beg, steal and borrow
'Give
us some change or I'll rearrange
Your
southern features, sonny'
In
baseball caps these shady chaps
Are
counting on your money
You,
with your no ideas
Just
your hidden fears
To
guide you in your world
You,
well the pound is all
It'll
make you tall
And
shield you from your thoughts
The
bus is late, the nerves do grate
This
line of flotsam faking
With
burnt-out whores and barstool bores
Life
histories complicating
Broken
drunks whose brains have shrunk
Are
going home to nowhere
Where
white trash breeds and sows the seeds
Of
darkness beyond compare
The
stench of fags and loveless shags
<
Are
draped across their shoulders
They
think of beers and bashing queers
And
die young when they're older
Leaving
bleached-out skanks to fill the ranks
New
fodder for the grinder
An
underclass of broken glass
Mass
slaughter would be kinder
(Instrumental edited down from a song which didn't seem to work; the DAT demo of the song can be heard in 'lo-fi' at the end).
I'm
on the verge of something happening
Prophetic
vision or a nightmare ride
Nerves
are twitching - can't sit still at all
I
caught you in my dreams, you've nowhere to hide
Light
streams through windows, but it's icy here
The
notebook's pages turn
A
fleeting glimpse of words that never were
A
fable to be learnt
Taking
on the well-worn shoes
Of
those with giant strides
Bits
and pieces start to melt
And
molecules take sides
Such
a span of time on earth
But
dreading like a waif
Mortal
inquisition's sight
Where
secrets are not safe
Where
to go when ice floes melt
And
skinny bones an open hand are dealt
Where
new is fear and old is locked
And
men of learning deliver up the shocks
Pass
the straits, the barrel's scraped
Below
the water-line
Leeks
are springing everywhere
And
plugs are hard to find
In
a dream the butterfly
Delivered
from its shell
Bright
and straight towards the sun
Escapes
from this pure hell
I'd
rather be in Plugstreet Wood
Where
an instinct could will you to survive
And
all your demons were plain to see
Simply
targets for a golden .303
Buddha
held the flower high
And
I saw it in his eye
That
two was three and four was five
You
are dead, but still alive
Take
your pick from our philosophies
Guaranteed
to cure you of disease
Just
as you please, it's your disease
Jesus
made a pot of tea
'Follow
me and you'll be free'
as
he left they loaded guns
Executed
all his sons
Answer
in no less than your own words
Speak
in tongues with animals and birds
Which
sounds absurd in your own words
Adolf
H's dead-fish eyes
Checking
Geli Raubal's thighs
Lost
his marbles in the snow
That
moustache will have to go
So
shave your head and set your chickens free
For
you are you and I will always be
Only
me, your chickens free
Duce's
vacillations grew
'Till
his knowing smile turned blue
Got
himself hung up to dry
Flowing
out into the sky
Through
your mind into the surging see
But
leave your watch and credit cards to me
In
memory of what will be
This site is maintained by Mr. Ardle Lungfish ardle@ardle.net and was last updated on April 5th 2006. All music and text contained within these pages is the property of Andy Lightfoot, © 2006.