Pip PYLE
"7 Year Itch"

SEVEN SISTERS
Words and Music
by Pip Pyle

Most of the true things I'm about to tell are lies
I won't bother bending ears when I don't believe my eyes
A drunkard that's sleeping in Central Park
A lion hunter stumbling round in the dark
A dentist and a British queen
And they all fit together in the same machine

Nice, nice, very nice, it's so very nice
So many people in the same device

If you're looking for reason
That really seems absurd
When there's no meaning in meaningless words
And the truth, so it seems
Is just confusion, bad dreams
Inflicting punishment without the crime
Never mind
For would you prefer it if I lie high in the sky ?
Almighty nothingness, amen, goodbye
Goodbye...

Encountering nothing inside of me
Outside nothing too
Communicates nothing
At least the bits missed that I misunderstood
Encounering nothing that's for no-one needing
Nihilistic nonsense next to nowhere
Nullifying nameless numbskull nursey nursey
Never no way now
A grief without a bang
A void, dark and drear
No need to understand
Let them live in fear
For years and years

Give him the heave-ho
Deflate his ego
When all's said and done
Just as if nothing was ever begun
And you look deep inside
You just get more mystified
So please don't stay there for all of your life
All your life
For would you prefer it if I lie high in the sky ?
Almighty nothingness, amen, goodbye
Goodbye...

CHINESE WHISPERS
Words and Music
by Pip Pyle

If ever you ask if I miss English politics or weather
Well, never...
Nor closing time, rising crime, post-thatcherite England
'The Sun', 'The Star', nine-to-five wine bars
'God save the Queen', TV, VAT
I can live without all that...

Mais ici, c'est bien d'être dans tes bras chaque nuit
J'ai envie que ça reste encore comme ça - pas comme ci
C'est vrai, il y a des fois où je pense que j'en ai marre
T'inquiète pas, avec toi, je suis plus sûr de moi
La vie est longue, c'est pas grave, on peut la voir ensemble
Tous les trois, je crois qu'on peut le faire, yeah
Oh, but I miss the cricket
And the BBC Radio 3 World Service commentary team

Much more than this, of course I miss you all kids
And that's why I built up this unbearable guilt
That weighs on us, but it's time you thought
None of this is your fault
Please accept it
Don't let's let it hurt us anymore

SEVEN YEAR ITCH
Words & Music by Pip Pyle

Put my teeth in the dark
The walls are closing in around me as I folk inward
Let the hell in my head out to haunt me
And curse one more time the day you found me

Though my back's to the wall
There's not much left back there to lean on
The ghosts of the good times
What's left of the milk I was weened on
You just took it all
And left me alone with my demons

I'M REALLY OKAY
Words by Jacqueline Cahen, Music by Pip Pyle

I'm really okay
I drank some wine
And sitting by the icy river
Fairfield, Connecticut
While others are fishing
I'm extremely slowly bent forward
And listening to a funny noise
Like the drant of a rusty part
It seems to come out of my stomach
But it definitely is the encounter of two bones
In a slightly wrong position
Maybe inside the right knee

It doesn't hurt me
It's just that it's weird
And perhaps I should go
And visit the doctor
Or drink some more wine
To see if I'm really okay
Really okay

LONG ON
Words and Music
by Pip Pyle

Across a long bridge
Where the strange flashing statues
Loom out of the grey and misty sea
Caught in a frenzy --------
We ran like rabid rabbits
Up a pyramidal rope
That's no joke
By a canal
Where the crocodiles prowl
Sipping café-cognac
Underneath the trail
In a shower
The euro tower (?!?)
I see a palace in a park
Under the moon
Where round and round
I dance myself right through the ground

SHIPWRECKED
Words and Music
by Pip Pyle

We don't know what's going on
We're strong but wrong
Our lives go on for so long
With many fatal slips
'twixt cup and lips
From here in a tail spin
It's hard enough to see
And since it's clear as mud round here
We try to break free
By kicking shit and hope some sticks
And either way, to see another day burst open
And writhe and squirm, like cans of worms
We gaze at what seems to be
Infinite skies across an endless sea
We put out distress calls
We're scared we'll be left for with good'n'all
Our heads in the sand
Shipwrecked with idle hands