1. |
The Hermit
04:06
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Through with sorrow
Today tomorrow
Through with laughter
Through with life
Through with working
Through with taxes
Through with dancing
All night long
CHORUS
Alone in the rain
I can feel alive again
The quiet makes me sane
Conversation’s such a drain
Leave me alone with my follies
And hermit’s dreams
Through with talking
Drugs and lipstick
Through with knocking
At my door
Through with tv
Idiots’ murmurs
Through with limelight
And your pride
Simply drifting through
Endless ruins
No events to
Cloud my visions
No one to see me
Not existing
A constant absentee
Completely free
Through with glory
Chasing answers
Through with meetings
All day long
Through with agendas
Senseless striving
Through with you dear
At my side
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2. |
Dead Men's Clothes
02:58
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Hiding in my bedroom in summer that’s good enough for me,
My friend the mirror wardrobe has the means to set me free,
And no one can describe for me,
The essence of this luxury,
I wear , you wear,
We wear dead men’s clothes
Hiding in the basement in winter that’s good enough for me
My dandy summer wardrobe has the means to set me free
And no one can explain to me,
This need for ancient finery
I wear you wear we wear dead men’s clothes
Oh how I wish that my tailoring was fashionable,
congenial and accepted by the world,
Instead I hide in murky basements lurking in the dark,
and I inhale the musty odours of the dead
Dining all alone in splendour that’s good enough for me,
My literary friends are here to keep me company,
So George and Harris eat their fill, and Mr Polly pays the bill,
I wear, they wear, we wear dead men’s clothes
Oh how I wish that the odour of my wardrobe,
Did not bar me from polite society,
Instead of endless conversations with myself,
and the silent approval of the grave
Walking down the streets in summer that’s good enough for me,
Arm in arm we’ll face the world in all it’s jealousy,
And people still in bed at home will wish they too had lives (of) their own,
I wear – you wear – we wear dead men’s clothes
I wear – you wear-we wear dead men’s clothes
I wear – you wear – we wear – they fear
I wear – you wear – they wish they wore
I wear – you wear – we wear dead men’s clothes!
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3. |
Rosemarie
03:50
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Oh dear Rosemarie,
Took my heart left nothing for me,
No grave in England could look sweeter than yours,
Oh dear Rosemarie,
Set adrift in perilous seas,
Like a ship left to drift from the shore
Now here in the dawn,
washed out haggard and drawn,
Being alone has it’s price,
(Your sole good piece of advice)
Oh dear Rosemarie,
a photograph by the sea,
That says that you and I will never be,
Oh dear Rosemarie,
the one you’ll never see,
Is etched upon the screen of my memory
Now here in the dawn,
with a hard disk full of porn,
I know that you’d want to be missed,
It’s the only way you could exist
Oh dear Rosemarie,
a hole where your heart should have been,
And friends just a thing for you to collect,
Oh dear Rosemarie,
paragon of vanity,
And nothing less than I have come to expect,
Now here in the dawn,
wishing you’d never been born,
I know that you’d want to be missed,
It’s the only way you could exist
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4. |
Ghostwalk
06:57
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During this melancholy season
Amongst useless hours of summer evenings
He draws again that map of crimes
With a key of those pale faces
And empty lamp lit streets
Chorus
His cloak is unconvincing
A cheap and see through cloth
You can feel his shivers
While he tries to shake them off
It’s made of Chinese whispers
So it’s plain to me
That it is the only ghost that we’ll see
Pay the price with little reason
Fill those hours of summer evenings
Lift up the skirts of dusk and feel
For the inventory of eviscerations
Itineraries of limbs
His cloak makes me uneasy
That cheap and see through cloth
We all can feel his shivers
While he tries to shake them off
It’s made of Chinese whispers
So it’s so plain to me
That it’s the only ghost that we’ll see
Chasing up the shadows
His words crawl into hollows
They bloom at last into
A rumour of a rumour
Yes this melancholy season
Those useless hours of summer evenings
We listen while he exhumes again, and then
For nights on end
The dead for fiscal reasons
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The Phantom Cowboys England, UK
The Phantom Cowboys are a rockabilly-styled four piece with a distinctive 'dark' signature sound blending elements of
rockabilly, goth pop and speakeasy swing.
Defying easy categorisation, their sound has been compared to artists as diverse as The Cramps, Stray Cats, The Damned, Nick Cave and Echo & The Bunnymen.
Their debut album, “Down and Out at The Club Cruella” was released in 1998.
... more
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