A Grim North

Musings from a northerner living in the deep south…

Posts Tagged ‘lyrics’

Cemetery Gates

Posted by Alan on February 1, 2010

A dreaded sunny day
So I meet you at the cemetery gates
Keats and Yeats are on your side

A dreaded sunny day
So I meet you at the cemetery gates
Keats and Yeats are on your side
While Wilde is on mine

So we go inside and we gravely read the stones
All those people all those lives
Where are they now?
With the loves and hates
And passions just like mine
They were born
And then they lived and then they died
Seems so unfair
And I want to cry

* * *

I haven’t really done any proper new year’s resolutions for years now. Probably just a lack of willpower but I tend to flunk them before February has started like most other people. But I do try have a ‘theme’ (or vision if you want to be caustically corporate). Last year this was achievement. Targets included getting a good job (tick), finding a better flat (tick) and reading more (sort of achieved…).
This year, arguably, the theme is consolidation (yeah, I *do* know that doesn’t sound awesome). Essentially though doing more with what I have achieved and being a bit better at delivering anything I promise. So, this weekend when we got invited to wander around the cemetery at Nunhead I jumped at the chance. Time for the new camera to come out to play and also chance to learn a bit more about the city we live in.
It also helps that Ruth has a strange obsession with death from her archaeology days.

Cemetery Gates

We'll meet you at the cemetery gates

Nunhead is in South East London, about 5-6 miles from the centre and we took the 2.15 tour from the gates. It is sister cemetery to Highgate (where Karl Marx is buried) but being South London it doesn’t boast the same kind of clientèle Highgate aspired too. Not that there aren’t famous people buried there, it’s just they have faded from memory as time has passed.

Cemetery Chapel

Nunhead Cemetery Chapel

The cemetery was hit several times by bombs during WWII, which has led to gaps in the trees/monuments. Some 250,000 people are buried here so the gaps are very misleading!

Amongst the formerly famous were several local philanthropists and also a Labour MP responsible for introducing the first old age pensions back in the 1930s.

It’s quite forested place – during it’s heyday some 200 people were employed to maintain the grounds but as death became less profitable the numbers dwindled and eventually nature started to claim back the land. Today it’s maintained in part by the Friends of Nunhead Cemetery who also run the tours.

Silhouette

Silhouette

The cemetery boasts a view of St Pauls from the top of the hill. Sadly I don’t have a lens capable of really showing that view!

Sculpture

Sculpture carving

There are some fantastic examples of carving amongst the memorials. Sadly, during the 1970s many were vandalised and removed. Those that do remain are often missing limbs, noses or unrecognisable. This one was very lucky indeed.

So. If you have some time on a Sunday and are inclined either to play with photography or learn a bit of history go find it! We plan on Highgate sometime later this year (maybe when it is less cold!)

The trip was rounded off by a pint in the Market Porter and in the Royal Oak (Borough). Also worth a look in if you fancy a pint though weirdly the Royal Oak was still full of xmas decorations…

The Market Porter, Borough

The Market Porter, Borough

Enough drivel for now. To finish with the start…

Cemetery Gates – The Smiths (The Queen Is Dead, 1986)

A dreaded sunny day
So I meet you at the cemetery gates
Keats and Yeats are on your side

A dreaded sunny day
So I meet you at the cemetery gates
Keats and Yeats are on your side
While Wilde is on mine

So we go inside and we gravely read the stones
All those people all those lives
Where are they now?
With the loves and hates
And passions just like mine
They were born
And then they lived and then they died
Seems so unfair
And I want to cry

You say: “ere thrice the sun done salutation to the dawn”
And you claim these words as your own
But I’ve read well, and I’ve heard them said
A hundred times, maybe less, maybe more

If you must write prose and poems
The words you use should be your own
Don’t plagiarise or take “on loans”
There’s always someone, somewhere
With a big nose, who knows
And who trips you up and laughs
When you fall
Who’ll trip you up and laugh
When you fall

You say: “ere long done do does did”
Words which could only be your own
And then you then produce the text
From whence was ripped some dizzy whore, 1804

A dreaded sunny day
So let’s go where we’re happy
And I meet you at the cemetery gates
Oh Keats and Yeats are on your side

A dreaded sunny day
So let’s go where we’re wanted
And I meet you at the cemetery gates
Keats and Yeats are on your side
But you lose because Wilde is on mine

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Hurricane

Posted by Alan on November 7, 2009

I haven’t done much new music lately. I am hoping not to get stuck in the 00’s!

I have however really enjoyed Lungs by Florence + The Machine. Favourite track is Hurricane Drunk (Spotify required). Lyrics as follows…

Hurricane Drunk – Florence + The Machine (Lungs, 2009)

No walls,
Can keep me protected
No sleep,
Nothing inbetween me and the rain
And you can’t save me now,
I’m in the grip of a hurricane
I’m gonna blow myself away.

I’m going out,
I’m gonna drink myself to death
And in the crowd
I see you with someone else,
I brace myself,
Cause I know it’s going to hurt,
But I like to think at least things can’t get any worse.

No home,
I don’t want shelter,
No calm,
Nothing to keep me from the storm,
And you can’t hold me down,
‘Cause I belong to the hurricane,
It’s gonna blow us all away.

I’m going out,
I’m gonna drink myself to death
And in the crowd
I see you with someone else,
I brace myself,
Cause I know it’s going to hurt,
But I like to think at least things can’t get any worse.

I hope that you see me,
Cause I’m staring at you,
But when you look over,
You look right through,
Then you lean and kiss her on the head,
And I never felt so alive, and so.. dead.

I’m going out,
I’m gonna drink myself to death
And in the crowd
I see you with someone else,
I brace myself,
Cause I know it’s going to hurt,
I’m going out, woah-oh-o

I’m going out
I’m gonna drink myself to death
And in the crowd
I see you with someone else,
I brace myself,
Cause I know it’s going to hurt,
I’m going out, woah-oh-o
I’m going out, woah-oh-o
I’m going o-o-o-o-o-o-out
I’m going out, woah-oh-o
I’m going out.

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Lighten Up Morrissey

Posted by Alan on March 22, 2009

Just a quick post this weekend as there’s still loads of stuff to do for the week ahead.

Friday night saw me up at The Forum, Kentish Town (now dreadfully branded HMV forum) to see Sparks. It was good. Not on the level of awesome of Radiohead last year but very well executed show covering a recent album and Kimono My House, their breakthrough. Was cool to see so much energy in performers who have been working for 30 years or so..it mustn’t be easy.

Saturday, a trip up to Aylesbury to see Ruth’s relatives. Caught the second half of the England vs Scotland match with a pint of Black Sheep. Twas ok, the usual England-Scotland Rugby tie with lots of kicking and not many tries. Unfortunately had to walk out on the Wales – Ireland tie after 5 minutes but looked like it would shape up to be an exciting game.

And Sunday. Just lazing around. Nice brunch, quick walk down Leytonstone for the weekly shopping and then chores to which I must away again……..

Sparks – Lighten up Morrissey (Exotic Creatures of the Deep, 2008)

She won’t go out with me, no, she won’t go out
‘Cause my intellect’s paper thin
She won’t go out with me, no, she won’t go out
Since my intellect’s not like him

So, lighten up, Morrissey

She won’t hang out with me, no, she won’t hang out
‘Til my biting wit bites like his
She won’t hang out with me, no, she won’t hang out
‘Til my quick retort’s quick as his

So, lighten up, Morrissey? Lighten up, lighten up
Lighten up, lighten up
Lighten up, Morrissey
Lighten up, lighten up
Lighten up, Morrissey

She won’t have sex with me, no, she won’t have sex
‘Less it’s done with a pseudonym
She won’t do sport with me, no, she won’t do sport
Says it’s way, way too masculine, look at him

So, lighten up, Morrissey? Lighten up, lighten up
Lighten up, lighten up
Lighten up, Morrissey
Lighten up, lighten up
Lighten up, Morrissey

I got comparisons coming out my ears
And she never can hit the pause
If only Morrissey weren’t so Morrisseyesque
She might overlook all my flaws

So, lighten up, Morrissey
Lighten up, lighten up
So, lighten up, Morrissey
Lighten up, lighten up
Lighten up, lighten up
Lighten up, Morrissey’
Lighten up, lighten up
Lighten up, Morrissey
She won’t dine out with me, no, she won’t dine out
Says my t-bone steak is at fault
She won’t dine out with me, no, she won’t dine out
With a murderer, pass the salt

Lighten up, lighten up
Lighten up, lighten up
Lighten up, Morrissey
Lighten up, lighten up

Lighten up, lighten up
Lighten up, Morrissey
Lighten up, lighten up
Lighten up, Morrissey

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