Lyrics: Every Scene Needs a Center

 

 

1. The Punks are Writing Love Songs

Blast beats, arena seats

And a ring tone by The Saints

Don’t know much about those weekend punks

But I’ve heard they’re prone to faint

Street fights and open mics

Where the bar cords meet the beats

Anthems written for the discontent

But the eye liner… it’s key

The punks are writing love songs x3

They’re mixing up the bed

HOODS UP – Poetry from the cul-de-sacs

BATS OUT – Anarchy with a note attached

BLAST BEATS – Window seats in the photographs

Tattoo the lyrics for the Teddy Boys, they’re singing

Bah, ba-da, ba-da

The punks are writing love songs x3

They’re mixing up the bed

Has beens and safety pins

Avoid The Voidoids and their curse

You want your record on the radio

You’d better sweetin’ up that verse

Abbreviate the longest names

You can bet that hearts will bleed

Distorted clever and nostalgic once

While singing poems at break neck speed

 

 

2. Fangs on Bats

Illustrate the fangs ignore the final cost

Sketchbooks they’re filled with all the friends you lost

Cheap seats

Disappointment it sits across

Blood stained potential with the new brunette

Upstairs you practice smoking cigarettes

A quick flame

Still a day that you won’t forget

Fangs on Bats

Fangs on Bats

Fangs on Bats

Heavy Metal Heartbreak…. taken over the world

Brittle bones and banquettes that you might attend

A single note you wrote, but still you wrote again

A torn seam

A simple stitch you can never mend

Peggy Bears they told you from the very start

The bitter taste of bitten when you read the part

Make amends

Or build a bomb with a better heart

Fangs on Bats

Fangs on Bats

Fangs on Bats

Heavy Metal Heartbreak…. taken over the world

 

 

3. Georgette Plays a Goth

Not quite accustomed to her changing moods

Her customers would stare

A mix of Tempest Storm meets Halloween

A baby bat with flare

The lunch crowd set goes soft… when Georgette plays a goth

She’s at the news-stand reading stock reports

And fetish magazines

A waitress uniform (in black) embroidered “Dear Catastrophe”

The lunch crowd set goes soft… when Georgette plays a goth

She’d be the first to defend all those 80’s trends oh oh

Shows her fangs at the bar singing Johnny Marr oh oh

Her ‘Revolution Ballroom’ Nina Hagen outfits found their way

Out past the remnants of a germ free adolescence speckled phase

The lunch crowd set goes soft… when Georgette plays a goth

When asked about the Sputnik era fishnets

Or the table wine

She quotes the Holly Johnson song about the dreams you couldn’t buy

 

 

4. Bored to Hear Your Heart Still Breaks

Those songs you listen to and the ones you write

A bit too precious for us a bit too vain a bit too much tonight

We understand that day was cloudy when you picked up your guitar

And now we know that when she broke your heart you blamed it on the stars… but could you?

Please keep your… Red Sleeping Beauty

Cause we’re bored to hear your heart still breaks

And we know – we know – we know………

So sick of those Blue Boy tapes

And we’re bored to hear your heart still breaks

And we know – we know – we know………

Look past the raincoat days

And we’re bored to hear your heart still breaks

And we know – we know – we know………

Smashed-up the crash-pop bass

And we’re bored to hear your heart still breaks

And we know – we know – we know………

Those chords we played

(we’re stackin’ up dominos) x4

We danced to ‘Stoned Love’ in a Northern Soul Club

Where the road would split and finally break

We could never go back or know the true path

The mist that filled our lungs would take

The phonograph plays the sounds of Hit Parade

“On the eve of greatness” we would shout

you told those stories bout The Springfields

…. too many times to count

 

 

5. Clique at Night Vandals

Better things to say

About the band that you’ve been in recently

Those songs about the last punk rock (hold-out in Brooklyn)

never gelled

Never one to blink

A mini skirt meets a cymbal crash at once

Surprised to hear your boyfriend minds when your record’s

…. doing well

We knew we’d never make good…. And we won’t

We learned the Buddy Rich songs note for note

Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh

We’re Safe Cause We’re The CLIQUE AT NIGHT VANDALS

I played you Mates of State

You didn’t like them much…. in fact you said:

So many songs that sound alike we should kill them in their sleep

(That’s) pretty sound advice

Either join the patrons

or the siege

Too many times we blame the votes for the patterns that we keep

We knew we’d never make good…. And we won’t

We learned the Buddy Rich songs note for note

Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh

We’re Safe Cause We’re The CLIQUE AT NIGHT VANDALS

 

 

6. Dracula Screams of Tiger Style (Parts 1 & 2)

He wasn’t much for public life. He hadn’t seen the strip in years

On some forgotten slot machines his name and image still appears

People’s interest never seemed to wane

Tabloids fueled the fire that was his fame

He couldn’t leave his home at night without the headlines chasing him

They gave him credit for the trends. He couldn’t be less interested

Imprisoned by the legacy he’d built

His love of life that bloomed would finally wilt

A venom pace spun away the race

(For the) next season’s blackest capes

His name inspired a slew of fashion praise

A fresh demand for the filthy bland

(And the) wings with impressive span

Took the reigns and set the bar

Where it would stay…..

We think he was wrong about the moonbeams

He counted the leagues but not the farm teams

True to his word he made us older

(and) brought the hem lines up in Dover

You may not believe me, but I think you’re in denial

DRACULA SCREAMS OF TIGER STYLE

He promised to fight to free the undead

And gave the Raider’s cap its street cred

A practiced ear still may surrender

He wrote a song you might remember

You may not believe me, but I think you’re in denial

DRACULA SCREAMS OF TIGER STYLE

I’m tired of rumors starting

I’m sick of being followed

I’m tired of people lying… saying what they want about me

Why can’t they back up off me

Why can’t they let me live

I’m gonna do things my way…. Take this for what it is…. Yeah

His cinema looks are long forgotten

And 40’s films with Joseph Cotton

Disappointed his fans and painted targets

(He) Found miracles in supermarkets

You may not believe me, but I think you’re in denial

DRACULA SCREAMS OF TIGER STYLE

Sit – sit Sit right back in your seat

(We’re takin’ advice from the count)

You may not believe me, but I think you’re in denial

DRACULA SCREAMS OF TIGER STYLE

Daft Punk-ish beats explain half empty seats

Butterscotch on the sheets… sugar stained ohhhh

The comfort it’s crept through the cracks in cleft

Till the fall’s all that’s left… sugar stained ohhhh

Street lights may shine

(The steepest stairs he could climb)

Street lights may shine

(The steepest stairs he could climb)

Now the capes may retire to the flames we admire

For the love King’s inspire… sugar stained ohhhh

Despite flames that burst through the bridge and the verse

We don’t count ourselves cursed… sugar stained ohhhh

Street lights may shine

(The steepest stairs he could climb)

Street lights may shine

(The steepest stairs he could climb)

‘Rock of Ages’ played the band

He never turned we understand

A silent crowd at Randolph’s Gates

Mary Celeste with Beachwood waits

A haunted castle’s pay phone rings

The distant voice of Bela sings

We always thought you’d live FOREVER

But every scene it needs its center

 

 

7. The Lonely Life of a UFO Researcher

Antenna towers and distant hopes

I’ve measured happiness with telescopes

Well I’ve been face to face with what my future brings

The reels they turn recording blips and pings

Through the white noise and distortion

There’s a message I can feel

Just give me one sign that you’re real

An orange glow some blinking lights

Don’t know how most folks spend their Friday nights

Well I’ve seen evidence no one would dare dispute

Witness accounts make up my life’s pursuit

And in those photos there’s a sadness

And a message I can feel

Just give me one sign that you’re real

Please give me one sign that you’re real

 

 

8. A Cursed Miss Maybellene

Let’s start a band we’ll call ourselves A Cursed Miss Maybellene

I’ve got a practice amp and drum set we can use

We’ll build a bomb made up of slogans painted A to Z

And let the post-punk modern history light the fuse

Miss Maybellene (Jenny)

A Cursed Miss Maybellene

Miss Maybellene (Jenny)

A Cursed Miss Maybellene

We won’t defend the bangs or badly drawn boy Plasticine

We count them cursed among the richest of the thieves

Another Tuesday night at Max’s Kansas City looms

Cardboard guitars cut-out for riffs play metal leads

Miss Maybellene (Jenny)

A Cursed Miss Maybellene

Miss Maybellene (Jenny)

A Cursed Miss Maybellene

Claimed witness to the fall and saw the death of rock-n-roll

Picked up the pieces at Gomorrah’s jubilee

Just barley noticed by the art-punks and the Velvet’s fans

Still never managed to escape obscurity

By ’81 we’d ushered in the brave casino sound

A fatal list of fashion points and played ‘em dead

We called on Shelly, also known as Shirley Shirley pops

To help us change it all to something new instead

 

 

9. If You Take Away the Make-Up (Then the Vampires Will Die)

We sent cassette tapes to the oil rigs and the artic outpost camps

Applied the basic rules of disco, attached harmonics to our amps

Upstaged the werewolves of Wisconsin with applause we couldn’t buy

Cause if you take away the make-up

Then the vampires they will die

We heard them sing in their fake accents where the storefront placard hangs

They kept alive the Brave Casino Sound

For Leslie Conway Bangs

But when the lights came up – the truth set in and record sales declined

Cause if you take away the make-up

Then the vampires they will die

With any luck we’d see Chicago by the morning but we were late

We missed The Cocktails at the Lounge Ax

We’d been playin’ clubs from town to town

And chasin’ bats from state to state

We took the first bus out of Memphis, stood in line like we were dead

And with a boarding pass in one hand you looked up at me and said:

“Without the Revlon girls at Macys Peter Murphy won’t survive”

Cause if you take away the make-up

Then the vampires they will die

 

 

10. Misgiving

I can see that you’re walking away from me

You can walk away from your home

You can leave even run if you need to

But when you go you know you’re going it alone

You can live any place that you want to

You can call any place your home

You can leave anytime that you need to

But when you leave me won’t you leave me alone

When the light hits your eyes it eclipses the moon dear

I love the red when the sun hits your hair

In front of me now and I’ll be gone later

You can leave if you need give me a call once you get there

You can live any place that you want to

You can call any place your home

You can leave anytime that you need to

But when you leave me won’t you leave me alone

I think that you thought that I thought that I loved you

And I’m not quite that that isn’t true

Having you around got to be such a habit

And when you’re gone I don’t know what I’ll do

You can live any place that you want to

You can call any place your home

You can leave anytime that you need to

But when you leave me won’t you leave me alone

Well I looked so hard but I just can’t see

What pulled you from the tree of god and handed you to me

Step into the present cause now

I want tp suck your richness up, but I don’t know how

You can live any place that you want to

You can call any place your home

You can leave anytime that you need to

But when you leave me won’t you leave me alone

You can live any place that you want to

You can call any place your home

You can leave anytime that you need to

But when you leave me won’t you leave me alone

When you leave me won’t you leave me alone

 

 

11. The Neutron

The myth of Pearl

Built to twirl

The bitter saint or the test card girl

We were hexed, jinxed

White lights from above

Princess reign

The winter train

The borough bridge and the quick refrain

We were hoods, punks

And our best friends called it love

We spent our nights and the coffee shops where we’d stay up late for weeks.

Hitched a ride from Sunnyside to the downtown city streets,

thinkin’ bout weekends when and how we were then when our hiccups were the same,

Peechees songs and sing-a-longs with the hand claps in the rain…. I wish we were back

You drew your gun

On the vacant one

When you set your sights on the soches son

He was pomp, dumb

Plush Algonquin loud

Abandon sings

For the wayward kings

(with a) ba ba bav and he’d buy you things

you were sweet, (&) stuck

with the jam the jukebox crowd

 

 

12. One Essex Girl

Her friends clack along on the pavement

In white plastic skyscraper heals

They descend on the raves in the Southend

As she looks from the train and reveals:

“I’m left unashamed by my family

or the message my ankle chains send,

but the jokes from the East-enders cut deep

and the ridicule wears very thin”

No place in the world

For one Essex girl

Who waits to be found

In a loaded down white Ford Fiesta

On the A13 north of the pier

Kylie keeps time with the markers

And the Friday night stockings are shear

These weekends have grown to be reckless

And the Chavs they could never relate

The discos are fine for the moment

But she dreams of the day she’ll escape

No place in the world

For one Essex girl

Who waits to be found

The house music bleeds from the ceiling

While the bits and the skirts line the wall

Jokes told about the bristols on crumpets

There’s a zepplin race too close to call

White Diamonds from Chavs for the first round

Who negotiate ways to get home

But despite who she might leave the club with

In the morning she wakes up alone

No place in the world

For one Essex girl

Who waits to be found

High Street’s exploding with track suits

On Sunday the sling-backs are off

Pink Kappa handbags at Lakeside

Where nightclubbing girls become moms

The eye-liner pencils meet garters

To keep warm on those Colchester nights

She’s not yet prepared for the side streets

Or a life spent with pushchairs and pints

 

 

13. The Secret History of Devil’s Paw

Too bad you don’t know just how the Romans built the ramparts

Too bad you don’t know the battle of the Coral Sea

(and) Plato’s ideal forms… linguistically a bit confusing

Too bad you don’t know how much you almost meant to me

Tracked down the letters from their post mark

And found them ringing out of tune

We brought the Count Five to the locals

Who still believed we’d hung the moon

A teapot dome of noble failures

Our dearest friends might disagree

Too bad you don’t know how much you almost meant to me

Too bad you don’t know the Templar Knights of Juneau’s Ice-field

Too bad you don’t know Denali’s secret bourgeoisie

A modest snowbound Inn… with just a pinch of Dorothy Draper

Too bad you don’t know how much you almost meant to me

Quietly diseased in person

Drawing poison from the air

Shooting down the small suggestions

With aim we never knew was there

I half assumed that you were joking

I held-up signs I hoped you’d see

Too bad you don’t know how much you almost meant to me

 

14. We Know You’re Cute, You Told Us

From a mic stand on a milk crate

to a rhinestone Butterfield 8

Audition tapes play on

The house band plays behind her

a pinned-down “Teach Me Tiger”

The stage lights flicker on

The barkeep whispers treason / and lights a flame for April Stevens

and the Nino Tempo fanbase / as he defends and counts the reasons

The pavement shows on her skin / like the distant sounds of Berlin

He’s convinced to death that she’ll fail / still she paints her toenails red for him

We know you’re cute you told us

But we won’t pretend to notice

She’s the patron saint of porridge

where the redline meets the orange

and the fireflies fill the floor

When our punkette leaves the opera

like a blood-soaked Frank Sinatra

Still she knows what love is for

She marvels from the pay phone / how they always chase the same goal

They define themselves with fashion / and the empty things that they own

In this “look-at-me-now” nation / it’s a one way conversation

A two-bit Porter Wagoner / selling fame in combinations

We know you’re cute you told us

But we won’t pretend to notice (x2)

From her apartment complex courtyard

the lifeless drumbeats hit hard

as the basement tapes play on

Just eight years from the lamppost

the daily bumps they hurt most

and the call-back days go on

From the pocket of her best coat / she’s surprised to find a small note

A scrap of long forgotten vows / she wipes her tears and reads aloud:

“Were you brave enough to find it? All those years you never minded.

If you searched your whole life for it, would you even recognize it?”

We know you’re cute you told us

But we won’t pretend to notice