Songs from I Will Cure You

Dizzy

Dizzy! I’m so dizzy my head is spinning,
like a whirlpool it never ends,
and it’s you girl making it spin,
you’re making me dizzy.

First time I saw you girl I knew I that got to make you mine,
but it’s so hard to talk to you with fellas
hanging round ya all the time,
I want you for my sweet bed but you keep playing hard to get,
I’m going round in circles all the time.

Dizzy! I’m so dizzy my head is spinning,
like a whirlpool it never ends,
and it’s you girl making it spin,
you’re making me dizzy.

I finally got to talk to you and I told just exactly how I felt,
and I held you close to me and I kissed you
and my heart began to melt,
girl you control of me, I’m so dizzy I can’t see,
I need to call a doctor for some he-e-e-e-lp.

Dizzy! I’m so dizzy my head is spinning,
like a whirlpool it never ends,
and it’s you girl making it spin,
you’re making me dizzy,
my head is spinning,
like a whirlpool it never ends,
and it’s you girl making it spin,
you’re making me dizzy (like a whirlpool),
yeah, I’m dizzy (his head is spinning),
bloody dizzy (yeah, he is dizzy),
like a whirlpool (his head is spinning).

Dizzy, yeah yeah ye-ah,
dizzy, oh he’s dizzy,
dizzy, yeah yeah,
dizzy, my head is spinning,
dizzy, dizzy, dizzy, dizzy, dizzy, dizzy, dizzy, dizzy.

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I Remember Punk Rock

You know, I remember punk rock ,
Like it was only yesterday,
Oh Mr Buzzcock on my shoulder singing in that extra-special way.

Oh yes, I remember punk rock I recall those melodies,
By the Clash, The Adverts, Wire, Eater,
not to mention ATV.

Well, the Generation X sang so sweetly,
While The Pistols ate their lunch,
The Damned had tea with The Lurkers,
Whilst X-Ray Specs enjoyed brunch.

You know, I remember punk rock,
Like it was only yesterday,
Oh Mr Buzzcock on my shoulder singing in that extra-special way.

Well the The Vibrators sang so tenderly whilst 999 had soup,
Richard Hell had The Slits round for coffee,
And The Slaughter and The Dogs round too.

You know, I remember punk rock,
Like it was only yesterday,
Oh Mr Buzzcock on my shoulder,
singing in that extra-special way.

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Black Night

Black night,
it’s not right,
I don’t feel so bright,
I don’t care to sit tight.

Maybe you’ll find on the way down the line that I’m free
free to be me
black night is a long way from home.

I don’t need a dark tree,
I don’t want a rough sea,
I can’t feel I can’t see.

Maybe you’ll find on the way down the line that I’m free,
free to be me,
Black night is a long way from home.

Black night, black night,
I don’t need a black night,
I can’t see dark light.

Maybe you’ll find on the way down the line that I’m free,
free to be me,
black night is a long way from home.

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Meals on Wheels

Well I’m drivin’ down the highway at the speed of light,
transporting meals in the middle of the night,
van drive quick food keep hot,
old folk weep if the food be not hot.

I’m driving so fast that I’m a-breakin’ the law,
’cos I’ve gotta get a snack to Mr Michelmore,
Mr Saville’s waiting for his muesli,
and old Harry Seacombe wants his pie and peas baby now.

Meals on wheels,
Feeding the old folk night and day,
Meals on wheels,
Get out of my way

I’ve got a little oven and a couple of pans,
so I can heat the meat in the back of the van,
food get chilled old folk weep,
hence the oven - do you see?

Meals on wheels,
feedin’ the old folk night and day,
meals on wheels,
get out of my way.

Fast fast faster bring the beef you bastard,
for Paula Abdul and don’t forget the pasta,
I’m steaming like a bitch down the highways of hell,
when I pass you mothers I ring my bell.

Meals on wheels,
feeding the old folks night and day,
meals on wheels,
get out of my way,
meals on wheels,
get out of my waaaaaaaaaayyyyow.

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Oh, Mr Songwriter

Oh, Mr Songwriter,
write me a song on your trumpet,
make it a good song,
So that everyone in the world can sing along.

Oh, Mr Painter,
do us a picture with your brush,
make it easy on the eye,
so the children of the world can live in peace.

Oh, Mr Carpenter,
knock us up a chair out of wood,
make it comfortable yet attractive,
so that all the people in the world can have a good sit-down.

Oh, Mr Weaver,
weave me a tapestry with your golden twine,
make it thick and wooly baby,
So that lovers all over the world can rest easy.

Pack it in, Parker!

Oh, Mr Nut Gatherer,
gather me some chestnuts from the wood,
lay them willy nilly in the cornfield,
so the farmer’s job is easier done.

Oh, Mr Songwriter Mr Songwriter,
oh, Mr Songwriter,
oh, Mr Songwriter.

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Born Free

Born Free, as free as the wind blows,
As free as the grass grows,
Born free to follow your heart.

Live free, and beauty surrounds ye,
The world still astounds ye,
Each time he looks at a car.

Stay free, where no walls divide ye,
You’re free as the roaring tide,
My friend, there’s no need to hide.

Born free, and life is worth living,
but only worth living cos you’re born free

Stay free, where no walls divide ye.
you’re free as the roaring tide,
my friend, there’s no need to hide.

Born free, and life is worth living,
but only worth living cos you’re born free.

Free, I was born free,
free, I was born free.

Like free leaflets in a magazine,
or free admission to my library,
like Free the group.

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Sing Hi! The New Romantic

Oh, for the new romantic,
sitting alone at his weaving loom,
slowly weaving lace collars to the sound of a big bass drum.

Sing Hi for the new romantic,
and the peacock feather in his cap,
silver buckles rattling Frilly shirts flapping,
in the breeze.

Spare a thought for the new romantic,
as he crimps his fringe till dawn,
using a sandwich maker to the sound of a frugal horn.

Hi, the new romantic,
and the peacock feather in his cap,
silver buckles rattling,
frilly shirts flapping,
in the breeze.

Oh, for the new romantic,
sitting alone at his weaving loom,
slowly weaving lace collars to the sound of a big bass drum.

Sing Hi for the new romantic,
and the peacock feather in his cap,
silver buckles rattling,
frilly shirts flapping,
in the breeze.

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Empty Kennel

He was a friend and a hairy companion,
Two big brown eyes just a starin’ at the sun,
his tail would wag in the summer breeze,
and gently caress my cheek.

The Swimming pool attendant couldn’t save him,
that old fella he weighed too much,
he waved good bye as he sank out of sight,
like a crab in a workman’s lavvy.

I yelled, what a gay old alsation he was,
he was like a brother to me,
I remember he was so portly his saddle wouldn’t fit properly
and I had to use an old mattress.
Sometimes on warm summers evenings I used to get into
the kennel with him and we’d sip hot water
and examine his collection of Nazi regalia for hours.

But now that old kennel is empty,
but I might use it for storing engine parts,
I’ll block up the hole,
and turn it upside down, and use it as a coracle.

But for now I’m gonna use it for private reasons,
at midnight when the moon is full,
and tonight I’d like to use it with you,
and you,
and you,
and you,
and you,
infact, all of yous.

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Summer of ’75

I remember the summer of ’75,
I was your husband,
And I was your wife,
We lived in a tent made of parsley and sage,
And we looked at each other and smiled.

I played the drums,
Whilst I played the flute,
Crash, bang wallop,
And root-a-toot-toot,
We ate thousands of turnips,
Never asking why,
in the summer of ’75.

Oh, reflections of you in the waterfall,
cascading through my mind,
Oh, reflections of you,
still waters run deep,
in the summer of ’75.

My eyes were blue,
While my eyes were black,
I smoked a church warden,
While I smoked some crack.
You murdered my wife, And then buried her alive,
in the summer of ’75.

I held your hand while you had a wee,
Sloosh went the urine up against a tree,
You shook your penis, and where the droplets lay,
grew a beautiful waterland glade.

Oh, reflections of you in the waterfall,
cascading through my mind,
Oh, reflections of you,
still waters run deep,
in the summer of ’75,

We slept in an orchard,
On a tapestry rug,
And drank fine mead from an old Saxon jug,
We gazed in wonder,
As Frampton came alive,
in the summer of ’75.

Oh, eflections of you in the waterfall,
cascading through my mind,
Oh, reflections of you,
still waters run deep,
in the summer of ’75,
in the summer of ’75,
in the summer of ’75,
in the summer of ’75,
in the summer of ’75.

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Oh! Mr Hairdresser

Oh, Mr Hairdresser,
do me a hair sculpture with your magic tweezers,
ease it, tease it and then grease it,
put a flange on the front, and then leave.

Oh, Mr Cat Burglar,
theive me some muesli from Van Morrisson,
lay it random on the veranda,
so the parsley club of Uganda can conceive.

Oh, Mr Magnetic Bullrush,
wave your special gloves in an arc,
prepare a lovely crisp salad,
and have sex with a kestrel above a caravan

Vic: Go on then Bob, play your mandolin.
Bob: Aw, thanks!

Oh, Mr Bogus Pendant Salesman,
why do I buy from you pendants made of ice,
make me one in the shape of Africa,
so I know what it looks like when I go there.

Oh, Mr Serial Killer,
kill my cereals with your wipe-out glove,
stop them coming for me at midnight.
with their axes made of bran and their knives of dust.

Oh, Mr Keyboard Wizard,
go twiddly twiddly dee on your Korg,
cover your face with your cape,
so that all the dull lovers can’t see you smiling at them.

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Abide With Me

Abide with me; fast falls the eventide;
the darkness deepens; Lord, with me abide.
when other helpers fail and comforts flee,
help of the helpless, O abide with me.

Swift to its close ebbs out life’s little day;
earth’s joys grow dim; its glories pass away;
change and decay in all around I see;
O thou who changest not, abide with me.

I need thy presence every passing hour.
what but thy grace can foil the tempter’s power?
who, like thyself, my guide and stay can be?
through cloud and sunshine, Lord, abide with me.

I fear no foe, with thee at hand to bless;
ills have no weight, and tears not bitterness.
where is death’s sting? Where, grave, thy victory?
I triumph still, if thou abide with me.

Hold thou thy cross before my closing eyes;
shine through the gloom and point me to the skies.
Heaven’s morning breaks, and earth’s vain shadows flee;
in life, in death, O Lord, abide with me.

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