1. |
Rage
04:21
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Rage
Rage
Product of an age
Hoping that time might change things
For seventeen years I traded off my rage
A rat in a cage
Waiting for time to change things
For seventeen years I traded off my rage
How many lies did you try to tell me?
How much shit did you try to sell me?
Here’s another leader for you to follow
That kinda stuff’s not easy to swallow
Chasing dreams like a puppy’s tail
With each ambition set to fail
Kid yourself you got it planned out
Then queue ten deep for another hand out
We pick through wreckage
Trying to find the perfect family
That’s not someone this one’s ever gonna be
Cos all I got is….
Rage
Product of an age
Hoping that time might change things
For twenty five years I traded off my rage
A rat in a cage
Waiting for time to change things
For twenty five years I traded off my rage
How many times did you try to fool me
Push me, shove me, try to rule me
I’m not known to suffer fools
Who hand out jobs but not the tools
Stop and count defeats you tasted
Work out how much time you wasted
Focus on the here & nows
Not holy ghosts or sacred cows
Glued to ya screens
Searching for the next conspiracy
That’s not someone this one’s ever gonna be
Cos all I got is
Rage
Product of an age
Hoping that time might change things
For thirty-odd years I traded off my rage
A rat in a cage
Waiting for time to change things
For thirty-odd years I traded off my rage
I once bought the theory that age will calm you
Settle you, saddle you and disarm you
Just how old do I have to get?
No sense of calm has found me yet
Not sure what those years provided
The rage I feel has not subsided
All that’s left is more to fight for
More to grieve, more to cry for
Your nine to five heroes
Love a bit of weekend anarchy
They ain’t someone this one’s ever gonna be
Cos all I got is….
Rage
Product of an age
Hoping that time might change things
Cos all my life I traded off my rage
A rat in a cage
Waiting for time to change things
Cos all my life I traded off my rage
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2. |
Not Bothered
01:38
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NOT BOTHERED
I’d sit and listen to the anarchist talk but I’m really really really not bothered
Hear them chirp and hear them squawk but I’m really really really not bothered
Proudly boast of things they’ve done
All their battles fought and won
But I’m really really really not bothered, really really really not bothered
I’d rub shoulders with celebrities but I’m really really really not bothered
Serve no purpose I can see and I’m really really really not bothered
The fact I can’t see why they’re famous
Don’t make me no ignoramus
And I’m really really really not bothered, really really really not bothered
I’ve no time to fill my head
With cabbages and kings
I’ve no concern for paltry stuff
So many more important things
And I’m really really really not bothered
Really really really not bothered
I could hide in the dressing room but I’m really really really not bothered
Play the rockstar I assume but I’m really really really not bothered
The gig’s all over ‘fore too long
But they’ll be there til the rider’s gone
and I’m really really really not bothered, really really really not bothered
I’d go on about old school ways but I’m really really really not bothered
Bore you to tears ‘bout ‘back in the day’ but I’m really really really not bothered
Write a piece for Vive Le Rock
‘10 best ways to suck your own cock’
But I’m really really really not bothered, really really really not bothered
I’ve no time to fill my head
With cabbages and kings
I’ve no concern for paltry stuff
So many more important things
And I’m really really really not bothered
Really really really not bothered
Really really really not bothered
Really really really not bothered
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3. |
Tension
02:07
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Tension
Go to the kitchen for a knife
Ain’t no way to treat a wife
The tension - cuts through
Domestic bliss? Don’t take the piss
Staring through a blood-red mist
The tension - cut’s through
Where did ya go? who were ya with?
Why should I ever of put up with this?
Answer ya phone, were you alone?
Forgive my failing to judge your tone
Call yourself a wife? Just a little slag
Your stuff’s by the door in an old bin bag
But things…… can turn
Rummage my bag, cut up my cards
Why should life ever be this hard?
The tension - cuts through
Search my texts and find fuck-all
Smash my phone against the wall
The tension - cuts through
Where did ya go? Who were you with?
Why should I have to deal with this?
Answer your phone, were you alone?
Forgive my failing to judge your tone
Call yourself a wife? Just a little slag
Your stuff’s by the door in an old bin bag
But people…… can turn
Shove me up against the wall
Grab my throat to end it all
The tension - cut’s through
Last act of a wasted life
Cos I beat you to the kitchen knife
Cold steel - cuts through
Where did I go? Who was I with?
Never ever ever gonna deal with this
Call yourself a man? I call myself free
If you’d been quicker it woulda been me
I’m nobody’s wife, nobody’s slag
They dragged you off in a body bag
Cos knives…… can turn
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4. |
Waste Your Time
02:33
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Waste Your Time
If you wanna waste your time judging me
You better find me guilty and throw away the key
Cos I won’t be changing, won’t be changing
Won’t be changing, anytime soon
No I won’t be changing, won’t be changing
Won’t be changing for you
If you wanna waste your time chasing me
Just pop round my house cos that is where I’ll be
Cos I won’t be running, won’t be running
Won’t be running, anytime soon
No I won’t be running, won’t be running
Won’t be running from you
Cos I ain’t ever spent more than five minutes
Feeling even in the slightest bit sorry for what I’ve done
And if you’re looking for someone you can push around for kicks
Keep looking cos motherfucker I ain’t the one
If you wanna waste your time judging me
You better find me guilty and throw away the key
Cos I won’t be changing, won’t be changing
Won’t be changing, anytime soon
No I won’t be changing, won’t be changing
Won’t be changing for you
If you wanna waste your time shaming me
You’d best not hold your breath for my apology
Cos I won’t say sorry, won’t say sorry
Won’t say sorry anytime soon
No I won’t say sorry, won’t say sorry
Won’t say sorry to you
Cos I ain’t ever spent more than five minutes
Feeling even in the slightest bit sorry for what I’ve done
And if you’re looking for someone you can push around for kicks
Keep looking cos motherfucker I ain’t the one
If you wanna waste your time doubting me
You better realise that I was born free
And I won’t be changing, won’t be running
Won’t say sorry, anytime soon
No I won’t be changing, won’t be running
Won’t say sorry to you
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5. |
Version Of Me
02:52
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Version Of Me
The version of me you get
Is the one that you deserve
The sweetest you ever met
Or the drill down to the nerve
The version of me you’ll see
Is the one I choose to share
The warm engaging smile
Or the cold, dismissive stare
The version you get is the version I pick
The version you get is the version I pick
The version you get is the version I pick
So don’t you treat me like some dumb chick
The version of me you’ll hear
Is whatever one I like
A calm and measured voice
Or a rant into the mic
The version of me you’ll take
Is whichever one I give
Won’t dance to no-one’s tune
And won’t change how I live
The version you get is the version I pick
The version you get is the version I pick
The version you get is the version I pick
So don’t you treat me like some dumb chick
The version you get today
Could change within a blink
And none of it depends
On what you say and think
The version I give to you
Is whatever one I choose
It’s all the rope you need
or a second’s worth of fuse
The version you get is the version I pick
The version you get is the version I pick
The version you get is the version I pick
So don’t you treat me like some dumb chick
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Lost Cherrees London, UK
Originally formed in Sutton, Surrey in 1979. The first studio demo was recorded in 1981 and the first gig was in 1982. The debut single was released in 1983 and first album in 1984. We split in 1986, reformed in 2004 and have been through several line-up changes across the 45 years. We've released a ton of stuff on various labels in that time and you'll find it all here eventually.... ... more
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