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blues - geordie greep lyrics

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[lyrics taken from live performance at the lexington on 07/07/24 and the windmill on 08/29/24]

you’re all grown up, you have your own stove
and your own pair of oven gloves
you have opinions and assignations
you keep up appearances and have a reputation
you sit in the park and work on your sonnets
you talk about yourself in the past tense
you have opinions that can’t be shaken and morals firm

“you know what i mean?”, “you know what i mean?”
“you know what i mean?”, “you know what i mean?”
“you know what i mean?”
“you know what i mean?”, “you know what i mean?”
“you know what i mean?”
is your favourite turn of phrase
“you know what i mean?”, “you know what i mean?”
“you know what i mean?”, “you know what i mean?”
“you know what i mean?”
is your second favourite turn of phrase

you can speak english better than anyone
and you can curse likе no man ever has done
and you havе a bigger d*ck than any man who’s ever lived
and you can cum more than a hundred stallions
in a room filled that smells of cigarettes and carrion
under sheets, freezing cold with damp
you voyage far and wide across plane and ocean
step on [?] celestial bridges
and knock down doors and climb in windows
listen in, listen, listen, listen, listen
can you hear that?
the signs of life not yet awake
the stirring, the scr*w*ng up of eyes
a blanket that forms mountains
the valley between knee and cheek
the steep slide down to the feet
the toe poking out
be careful, my boy, don’t touch, just watch
stay outside, stay outside in the cold
and listenin, listen, listen, listen
can you hear that? can you hear that?

there’s a universe in this room
you scrounger of toilets and pillager of tombs
you don’t have to work because working is for schmucks
you know god will light your way
you are ready to admit to murder
to assault, to fraud, to pederasty, to robbery
you are ready to take the blame for every crime of all men
but the jury is out to lunch

you imagine a roaming camera that captures your melancholy
you walk the streets that stink of disease
you turn up your collar like james dean
you put your right hand under your jacket and pretend you’re napoleon
you put your left hand under your jacket and pretend you have a gun
you squeeze your spots ’til they bleed
you turn your face so no one sees
the beggars still could play accordions
you should pay one to follow you around and play your theme
soon your nails will ring
soon your earrings will sing
soon your organs will grow little mouths and speak for themselves
soon your body will stage a civil war
soon your heart will burst out free
soon it will look you in the face and ask, “what have you done?
why have you led it astray?”

soon your brain will migrate
soon your b*lls self*castrate
your feet will scuttle off
your hands will fly away
soon your eyes will glue themselves shut
soon your legs will refuse to hold you up
so embarrassed to bear your name, your body will vanish out of shame

the first step is acceptance
admit you have no idea what you’re doing
admit you have no aim and no ambition
admit that you sleepwalk through nights
admit you only sleep sleepless nights
admit that your best dreams involve being carried
the spirit then enters your room
that spirit [?] carry you away
in those arms, you escape
you dissolve through clouds, [?]
admit to yourself you’re finally proud
admit that you try to cry at night
admit to yourself no one else cares
there’s no jury present
there’s no [?]
there’s no examination, only you
soon you’ll disappear
soon you won’t be here
soon you’ll have all the time in the world
soon your lips will extract
soon your lips will expand
you’ll pull them apart up over your head
soon you’ll be inside out

soon your [?]
soon your veins will spill out for miles
soon your veins will transport trains all over the world
soon your veins will be a railroad
soon your bodymind will extract itself
soon you won’t be here
you’ll be fine, just relax
soon you’ll disappear, that’s the only fact

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