What's The New Mary-Jane?
(Bostock/Peacock)

What’s the new Mary-Jane?
What is the flavour of the month today?
Kick your troubles, 
And blow them all away
With the new Mary-Jane.

See the colours in a whitewashed wall,
Watch the rain fall from the sky,
See the hands on my watch going
Round and round,
I don’t know the reason why.

Thunder clapping to the rhythm of my mind,
Hear the raindrops keeping time,
Hear the ticking of my wristwatch going
Tick tock,
Very soon you will be mine.

Watch out Mary,
Watch out Mary,
Watch out Mary,
Very soon you will be mine.

James A Bostock	        vocals and lead guitar
Simon Peacock		vocals and other instruments
 
Tireless Love 
(Bostock)

No more, my love; it’s becoming too much.
I’m starting to tire of your tireless touch.
Say if you will I’m not much of a man,
But you’re tiring me out with your endless demands.

You can’t get enough of this tireless love.
You’re giving me all of your tireless love.
You’re asking for more when I’m tired of love.
It’s so hard,
It’s so hard.

Scattered nylons and tossed aside shoes;
I’ve given all that I can give to you.
You still want for more; you’re insatiable,
You’re more than one man should be made to take.

Take this my one last exhaustive caress.
You can’t ask for more; I’ve given my best.
You’re insatiable, you’re still asking for more
When I’ve given you love to excess.

James A Bostock	        vocals, lead guitar and keyboards
Simon Peacock		backing vocals and other instruments
 
It's Sunday
(Bostock/Peacock)

With your 3-D Jesus pictures and your Virgin Mary veil,
A shot of holy water in your plastic Holy Grail.
You’ll never be a saint,
But it’s not for want of trying
They say these things redeem you, 
But they might as well be lying.

It’s Sunday seven days a week,
It’s Sunday seven days a week,
It’s Sunday seven days a week,
It’s Sunday, it’s Sunday,
It’s Sunday, it’s Sunday.

You go there every Sunday to gather with the herd
And silently you mouth along to all the well-worn words.
All the prayers you offer up your sins cannot atone;
The Lord himself was crucified to decorate your home.

You value all your icons, more precious than the book
That is always at your bedside with the photographs you took
Of the stacks of Jesus merchandise, you know that Jesus wept,
‘Cause you wouldn’t bat an eyelid if he kissed you as you slept.

James A Bostock	        vocals and lead guitar
Simon Peacock		vocals and other instruments
 
Angels
(Bostock)

We keep them all in cages now 
So they can’t get away
The folks with angel wings don’t dare complain.
We’ll rob them of their vision 
With the tools of our trade
And with our ties we’ll bind them to the ground.

If we can’t fly with the angels 
Then we’ll drag the angels down,
And if we can’t play like the angels 
Then we’ll take their harps away,
If we can’t be happy 
Then no one’s to enjoy themselves,
And beauty is a thing to hide away.
Beauty is a thing to hide away.

Now we’re slicing up the angels 
And we’re mounting them on slides
To see what we can learn from their insides.
We’ll take their brains and pickle them 
And label them in jars
Break out the axes, let me take a slice.

Take away their harps, good Lord 
I hate to hear that sound
It sounds too good to ever be allowed
And take away their haloes, 
Jesus who do you think they are?
Break out the axes, pass the meat hooks round.

I’m an angel, yeah.

Bez			keyboards
James A Bostock	        vocals and lead guitar
John Cook		drums
Simon Peacock		other instruments
 
In A Lay By (Late At Night) 
(Peacock)

So he’s taking you out tonight, well have a lovely time.
With tears in eyes I wave goodbyes; I’d rather you were mine,
But I can’t stop him taking you; it’s not really a crime.
I just pray that you both stay the right side of the line.

But don’t let your defences down in a lay-by late at night,
‘Cause I’m lying here thinking of you holding each other tight.
I know I love you more than he, so what gives him the right
To try and lower your defences in a lay-by late at night?

You were out ‘til one am; I saw you walking in.
I can’t believe in all that time that you just talked to him.
I know you don’t care for me girl, but you hurt me deep within.
It brings me down each time I find you’d rather be with him.

He took you to a lay-by in southern Milton Keynes.
You said you kept each other warm, yes I know what that means.
I wish that I could hurt you too, or call you something obscene.
Well thank you ver much, girl for shattering my dreams.

Bez			bass
John Cook		drums
Rob Croft		guitar solo
Wayne Burgess		outro guitar solo
Simon Peacock		vocals and other instruments
 
I Don't Want To Be A Pop-Star 
(Berry/Bostock/Gibbs/Peacock)

I won’t tolerate parasites cling to my clothes,
Delving through my records, and gnawing on my bones.
I don’t want to be a pop star;
I’m just a normal guy.

To know that they are watching all of the time.
I’ve got to have some privacy, something that is mine.
I don’t want to be a pop star;
I’m just a normal guy.

One of a million faces in a TV-screen,
One of a million people in a magazine,
One of a million records that’s been in the charts,
One of a million heartbeats in a teenage heart.

I don’t want executives pulling on my strings
I don’t want disciples misreading senseless things.
I don’t want to be a pop star;
I’m just a normal guy.

Bez			backing vocals and bass
James A Bostock	        vocals and guitar
John Cook		drums
Claire Gibbs		backing vocals and tambourine
Simon Peacock		backing vocals and lead guitar
 
The Fish
(Gibbs)

I’m biting the hook, my flesh ripped.
I struggle but the barbs held fast.
The ceiling of my world shattered
Without water my airways are crushed.

Smiling faces greet my pain, is your enmity so great?
Smiling faces greet my pain, is your enmity so great?
Did one life end and another begin?
Did one life end and another begin?
Did one life end and another begin?
Did one life end and another begin?

Now a human I bear the wounds
Stitches patched up for memories
‘Til I saw a fish out on a line
Now I feel the pain and choke on blood.
Choke on blood, on blood.
Choke on blood, on blood.
Choke on blood, on blood.

James A Bostock	        electric guitar
Simon Peacock		bass and acoustic guitars
Claire Gibbs 		vocals and other instruments
 
He Loves You 
(Bostock)

There’s an image in the mirror
Of a twisted Bonaparte
He’s swearing that he loves you 
But he’s tearing you apart
Well I’ve heard that we often have to hurt the ones we love
So go on and take your medicine; you know it does you good.

And upstairs in the bathroom
With the razor blades at hand
Sits a poor demented monster
With a list of our demands
He doesn’t mean to hurt us but he does so just the same,
Although he says he loves us he likes to cause us pain.

He says he loves you.
He says he loves you.
He says he loves you.

And downstairs in the basement
There’s a wired-up chair
Where he likes to sit the children 
Who refuse to say their prayers.
He says, "you know I love you" and he seals it with a kiss,
But he doesn’t really love them; it’s just how he gets his kicks.

All the time he’s watching us 
He wants us to do good
And if we put a foot wrong 
Then he’s howling for our blood.
He’s letting loose his mastiffs while we’re sleeping in our beds.
He wakes us from our slumber as we’re being torn to shreds.

You know it hurts to love.
You know it hurts to love.
You know it hurts to love.
You know it hurts.

Bez			backing vocals and bass
James A Bostock	        vocals
Richard Aitken	        backing vocals and other instruments
  
Mad Cow
(Bostock/Peacock)

Bovine Spongiform Encephalitus.
Mad Cow.

James A Bostock	        vocals
Simon Peacock		vocals and instruments

City Life
(Gibbs)

The community died long ago
When the city suffocated the land
With it’s impersonal vastness.
Nobody knows anybody or cares.
Or cares.

City life, can’t stand this city life.
Can’t stand this city life.
Can’t stand this city life.
City life suffocating me.
City life suffocating me.
City life suffocating me.
City life suffocating me.

Money that travels without movement
Except from the beaurocrats pen.
Technology that leaves the world behind
As it looks down from the office block tower.

Free me from this city life.
Free me from this city life.

Bez			electric guitar
James A Bostock	        acoustic guitar
Claire Gibbs		vocals, keyboards and tambourine
Simon Peacock		bass, drums and radio 
 
Please Forgive Me
(Peacock)

Tonight 
We will both sleeping in different bedrooms
And I wonder if you’ll cry into your pillow.
I need to know
If you feel the same way I do.
Do we have the chance to start again?

I know I’ll regret this 
In the morning when I’m sober.
I didn’t mean 
Half the things I said.
Wasn’t me; 
It was only the whisky talking.
Please forgive me, 
Wish I were dead.
Please believe me,
Wish I were dead.

I 
Really believed that you didn’t love me.
How could I ever make such a mistake?
I just wanted you
To make the next move;
I was giving you a chance to escape.

Claire Gibbs 		backing vocals
Simon Peacock		vocals and instruments
 
Not Tonight Josephine
(Bostock/Peacock)

You lie there wrapped in velvet, 
A figure-hugging dress.
A look of longing 
Lingers in your eyes.
All you ever wanted 
Was to be a girl possessed
But don’t you let me hear you say your mine.

Not tonight, Josephine, not tonight.
Not tonight, Josephine, not tonight.
I know you never will be mine
And I don’t want to waste my time so
Maybe someday, not tonight.

All the things she said to me 
Leave me in two minds,
I love her and I hate her 
All the time.
You wouldn’t understand me
If you’d known me all my days,
You’ll never get to know me in one night.

James A Bostock	        vocals and lead guitar
Simon Peacock		backing vocals and other instruments
 
Goodbye
(Bostock/Peacock)

You refrain to Mary Jane 
Complaining that it’s all so hard.
You can be my Josephine 
If I can be your Bonaparte.
You’re thinking of me 
I’ll give you a slice of my life
I hope you choke on these words 
Now I’m saying goodbye.

Don’t stop me from talking;
We both know it’s time.
It’s time to say goodbye,
Goodbye, goodbye.

I know you think of me 
Lost in your slick city life.
I won’t regret this 
So don’t think you’re still on my mind.
This side of the line, 
I don’t know how much I can take.
If I put the pieces together 
I can see what they make.

Enchanting you may be
But I know that look in your eyes.
I want no part of it,
I want no drawn-out goodbyes.

James A Bostock	        vocals
‘Manda Laycock	        acoustic guitar
Simon Peacock		vocals and other instruments
 
Astley In An Acid Bath
(Cook)

Astley in an acid bath, that’s my favourite dream,
Astley in an acid bath, hear the f***er scream,
Astley in an acid bath, not in the f***ing charts,
Astley in an acid bath, dissolve his empty heart.

Astley in an acid bath, see his bones bleached white,
Astley in an acid bath, serves the b**tard right,
Astley in an acid bath, blood turns the acid read,
Astley in an acid bath, at last the b**tard’s dead. 

John Cook		vocals
Rosie Meade		vocals
Gary Taylor		vocals
Simon Peacock		instruments
 

Lyrics copyright Aiken Drum and Eco BeBop Records 1990