Setting Sons
Album - 17 novembre 1979 - Debaser id 37446

Times were so tough, but not as tough as they are now,
We were so close and nothing came between us - and the world -
No personal situations.
Thick as thieves us, we'd stick together for all time,
and we meant it but it turns out just for a while,
we stole - the friendship that bound us together -

We stole from the schools and their libraries,
We stole from the drugs that sent us to sleep,
We stole from the drink that made us sick,
We stole anything that we couldn't keep,
And it was enough - we didn't have to spoil anything,
And always be as thick as thieves.

Like a perfect stranger - you came into my life,
Then like the perfect lone ranger - you rode away - rode away,
rode away - rode away.

We stole the love from young girls in ivory towers,
We stole autumn leaves and summer showers,
We stole the silent wind that says you are free,
We stole everything that we could see,
But it wasn't enough - and now we've gone and spoiled everthing,
Now we're no longer as thick as thieves.

You came into my life -
Then like a perfect stranger you walked away - walked away -
walked away - walked away.

Thick as thieves us - we'd stick together for all time,
and we meant it but it turns out just for awhile,
we stole the friendship that bound us together.

We stole the burning sun in the open sky,
We stole the twinkling stars in the black night,
We stole the green belt fields that made us believe,
We stole everything that we could see.

But something came along that changes our minds,
I don't know what and I don't know why,
But we seemed to grow up in a flash of time,
While we watched our ideals helplessly unwind.

No - we're no longer as thick as thieves - no,
We're not as thick as we used to be - no,
We're no longer as thick as thieves - no,
We're not as thick as we used to be -

no it wasn't enough - and we've gone and spoiled everything
Now we're no longer as thick as thieves.

Closer than close - you see yourself -
A mirrored image - of what you wanted to be.
As each day goes by - a little more -
You can't remember - what it was you wanted anyway.
The fingers feel the lines - they prod the space -
Your ageing face - the face that once was so beautiful,
is still there but unrecognizable -
Private Hell.

The man who you once loved - is bald and fat -
And seldom in - working late as usual.
Your interest has waned - you feel the strain -
The bed springs snap - on the occasions he lies upon you -
close your eyes and think of nothing but -
Private Hell.

Think of Emma - wonder what she's doing -
Her husband Terry - and your grandchildren.
Think of Edward - who's still at college -
You send him letters - which he doesn't acknowledge.
'Cause he don't care,
They don't care.
'Cause they're all going through their own - Private Hell.

The morning slips away - in a valium haze,
And catalogues - and numerous cups of coffee.
In the afternoon - the weekly food,
Is put in bags - as you float off down the high street

The shop windows reflect - play a nameless host,
To a closet ghost - a picture of your fantasy -
A victim of your misery - and Private Hell

Alone at 6 o'clock - you drop a cup -
You see it smash - inside you crack -
You can't go on - but you sweep it up -

Safe at last inside your Private Hell.
Sanity at last inside your Private Hell.

Meet me on the wastelands - later this day,
We'll sit and talk and hold hands maybe,
For there's not much else to do in this drab and colourless
place.
We'll sit amongst the rubber tyres,
Amongst the discarded bric-a-brac,
People have no use for - amongst the smouldering embers of
yesterday.

And when or if the sun shines,
Lighting our once beautiful features,
We'll smile but only for seconds,
For to be caught smiling is to acknowledge life,
A brave but useless show of compassion,
And that is forbidden in this drab and colourless world.

Meet me on the wastelands - the ones behind,
The old houses - the ones - left standing pre-war -
The ones overshadowed by the monolith monstrosities -
councils call homes.

And there amongst the shit - the dirty linen,
The holy Coca-Cola tins - the punctured footballs,
The ragged dolls - the rusting bicycles,
We'll sit and probably hold hands.

And watch the rain fall - watch it - watch it -
Tumble and fall - tumble and falling -
Like our lives - like our lives -
Just like our lives.

We'll talk about the old days,
When the wasteland was release when we could play,
And think - without feeling guilty -
Meet me later but we'll have to hold hands.
Tumble and fall - tumble and falling -
Like our lives - like our lives -
Exactly like our lives.

Here we go again, it's Monday at last,
He's heading for the Waterloo line,
To catch the 8 a.m. fast, its usually dead on time,
Hope it isn't late, got to be there by nine.
Pin stripe suit, clean shirt and tie,
Stops off at the corner shop, to buy The Times
'Good Morning Smithers-Jones'
'How's the wife and home?'
'Did you get the car you've been looking for?'

Let me get inside you, let me take control of you,
We could have some good times,
All this worry will get you down,
I'll give you a new meaning to life - I don't think so.

Sitting on the train, you're nearly there
You're part of the production line,
You're the same as him, you're like tin-sardines,
Get out of the pack, before they peel you back.

Arrive at the office, spot on time,
The clock on the wall hasn't yet struck nine,
'Good Morning Smithers Jones'
'The boss wants to see you alone'
'I hope its the promotion you've been looking for'


'Come in Smithers old boy'
'Take a seat, take the weight off your feet'
'I've some news to tell you'
'There's no longer a position for you' -
'Sorry Smithers Jones'.

Put on the kettle and make some tea
It's all a part of feeling groovie
Put on your slippers turn on the TV
It's all a part of feeling groovie
It's time to relax, now you've worked your arse off
But the only one smilin' is the sun tanned boss
Work and work and work and work till you die
There's plenty more fish in the sea to fry

THE ETON RIFLES


Sup up your beer and collect your fags -
There's a row going on down near Slough.
Get out your mat and pray to the West.
I'll get out mine and pray for myself.

Thought you were smart when you took them on,
But you didn't take a peep in their artillery room.
All that rugby puts hairs on your chest.
What chance have you got against a tie and a crest?

Hello-Hurrah - what a nice day for the Eton Rifles.
Hello-Hurrah - I hope rain stops play for the Eton Rifles.

Thought you were clever when you lit the fuse,
Tore down the house of commons in your brand new shoes,
Composed a revolutionary symphony,
Then went to bed with a charming young thing.

Hello-Hurrah - cheers then, mate. It's the Eton Rifles.
Hello-Hurrah - an extremist scrape with the Eton Rifles.

What a catalyst you turned out to be:
Loaded the guns, then you run off home for your tea -
Left me standing like a guilty schoolboy...

What a catalyst you turned out to be:
Loaded the guns, then you run off home for your tea -
Left me standing like a naughty schoolboy...

We came out of it naturally the worst:
Beaten and bloody, and I was sick down my shirt.
We were no match for their untamed wit,
Though some of the lads said they'd be back next week.

Hello-Hurrah - it's the price to price to pay to the Eton Rifles.
Hello-Hurrah - I'd prefer the plague to the Eton Rifles.

Hello-Hurrah - it's the price to pay to the Eton Rifles.
Hello-Hurrah - I'd prefer the plague to the Eton Rifles.