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The Jam
The Jam


Информация
Откуда Woking, Surrey, England
Жанры Punk Rock
Pop punk
New Wave
Годы 1972—1982
Лейблы Polydor
См. также The Style Council
Time UK
Sharp
Бывшие участники
Paul Weller
Bruce Foxton
Rick Buckler
Steve Brookes



Music World  →  Тексты песен  →  T  →  The Jam  →  Дискография  →  Setting Sons

Альбом The Jam


Setting Sons (1979)
1979
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. . .


Girl on the phone keeps a-ringing back
Her voice is smooth but the tone is bland
She's telling me this and she's telling me that
She talks about me and I must agree
With what she says about me
About how nice I can be
But it makes no difference to my mind

Girl on the phone keeps a-ringing back
She knows all my details - she's got my facts
She tells me my height and she knows my weight
She knows my age and says she's knows fate

And I must say - it's logical
What foresight she must have
I've got to meet her whenever I get time

Says she knows everything about me
Every word I've ever said
Every book I've ever read
She told me that we met along time ago
I can't think when but she should know

Girl on the phone keeps a-ringing back
Knows where I get my shirts and where I get my pants
Where I get my trousers where I get socks
My leg measurements and the size of my cock

And I must say it's un-nerving
To think that she knows me
Knows me so well - better than anyone
Better than myself

Says she knows everything about me
Every record I've listened to
Every window that I've looked through
She told me that we met along time ago
I can't think when but she should know

Girl on the phone keeps a-ringing back
She's telling me this and she's telling me that

. . .


Times were so tough, but not as tough as they are now
We were so close and nothing came between us and the world
No personal situations

Thick as thieves us, we'd stick together for all time
And we meant it but it turns out just for a while
We stole the friendship that bound us together

We stole from the schools and their libraries
We stole from the drugs that sent us to sleep
We stole from the drink that made us sick
We stole anything that we couldn't keep
And it was enough, we didn't have to spoil anything
And always be as thick as thieves

Like a perfect stranger, you came into my life
Then like the perfect lone ranger
You rode away, rode away, rode away, rode away

We stole the love from young girls in ivory towers
We stole autumn leaves and summer showers
We stole the silent wind that says you are free
We stole everything that we could see
But it wasn't enough - and now we've gone and spoiled everything
Now we're no longer as thick as thieves

You came into my life
Then like a perfect stranger
You walked away, walked away, walked away, walked away

Thick as thieves us, we'd stick together for all time
And we meant it but it turns out just for a while
We stole the friendship that bound us together

We stole the burning sun in the open sky
We stole the twinkling stars in the black night
We stole the green belt fields that made us believe
We stole everything that we could see

But something came along that changed our minds
I don't know what and I don't know why
But we seemed to grow up in a flash of time
While we watched our ideals helplessly unwind

No, we're no longer as thick as thieves - no
We're not as thick as we used to be, no
We're no longer as thick as thieves, no
We're not as thick as we used to be

No it wasn't enough
And we've gone and spoiled everything
Now we're no longer as thick as thieves

. . .


Closer than close - you see yourself -
A mirrored image - of what you wanted to be.
As each day goes by - a little more -
You can't remember - what it was you wanted anyway.
The fingers feel the lines - they prod the space -
Your ageing face - the face that once was so beautiful,
is still there but unrecognizable -
Private Hell.

The man who you once loved - is bald and fat -
And seldom in - working late as usual.
Your interest has waned - you feel the strain -
The bed springs snap - on the occasions he lies upon you -
close your eyes and think of nothing but -
Private Hell.

Think of Emma - wonder what she's doing -
Her husband Terry - and your grandchildren.
Think of Edward - who's still at college -
You send him letters - which he doesn't acknowledge.
'Cause he don't care,
They don't care.
'Cause they're all going through their own - Private Hell.

The morning slips away - in a valium haze,
And catalogues - and numerous cups of coffee.
In the afternoon - the weekly food,
Is put in bags - as you float off down the high street

The shop windows reflect - play a nameless host,
To a closet ghost - a picture of your fantasy -
A victim of your misery - and Private Hell

Alone at 6 o'clock - you drop a cup -
You see it smash - inside you crack -
You can't go on - but you sweep it up -

Safe at last inside your Private Hell.
Sanity at last inside your Private Hell.

. . .


Its funny how you never knew what my name was,
Our only contact was a form for the election.
These days I find that you don't listen,
These days I find that we're out of touch,
These days I find that I'm too busy,
So why the attention now you want my assistance -
What have you done for me.

You've gone and got yourself in trouble,
No you want me to help you out.

These days I find that I can't be bothered,
These days I find that its all too much,
To pick up a gun and shoot a stranger,
But I've got no choice so here I come - war games.

I'm up on the hills, playing little boy soldiers,
Reconnaissance duty up at 5:30.
Shoot shoot shoot and kill the natives,
You're one of us and we love you for that.

Think of honour, Queen and country,
You're a blessed son of the British Empire,
God's on our side and so is Washington.

Come out on the hills with the little boy soldiers.

Come on outside - I'll sing you a lullaby,
Or tell a tale of how goodness prevailed.

We ruled the world - we killed and robbed,
The fucking lot - but we don't feel bad.

It was done beneath the flag of democracy,
You'll believe and I do - yes I do - yes I do -
yes I do -

These days I find that I can't be bothered,
To argue withthem well what's the point,
Better to take your shots and drop down dead,
then they send you home in a pine overcoat

With a letter to your mum

Saying find enclosed one son - one medal and a note -
to say he won.

. . .


Meet me on the wastelands - later this day,
We'll sit and talk and hold hands maybe,
For there's not much else to do in this drab and colourless
place.
We'll sit amongst the rubber tyres,
Amongst the discarded bric-a-brac,
People have no use for - amongst the smouldering embers of
yesterday.

And when or if the sun shines,
Lighting our once beautiful features,
We'll smile but only for seconds,
For to be caught smiling is to acknowledge life,
A brave but useless show of compassion,
And that is forbidden in this drab and colourless world.

Meet me on the wastelands - the ones behind,
The old houses - the ones - left standing pre-war -
The ones overshadowed by the monolith monstrosities -
councils call homes.

And there amongst the shit - the dirty linen,
The holy Coca-Cola tins - the punctured footballs,
The ragged dolls - the rusting bicycles,
We'll sit and probably hold hands.

And watch the rain fall - watch it - watch it -
Tumble and fall - tumble and falling -
Like our lives - like our lives -
Just like our lives.

We'll talk about the old days,
When the wasteland was release when we could play,
And think - without feeling guilty -
Meet me later but we'll have to hold hands.
Tumble and fall - tumble and falling -
Like our lives - like our lives -
Exactly like our lives.

. . .


How are things in your little world?
I hope they're going well, and you are too
Do you still see the same old crowd?
The ones who used to meet every Friday
I'm really sorry that I can't be there
But work comes first, I'm sure you'll understand
Things are really taking off for me
Business is thriving, and I'm showing a profit

And in any case it wouldn't be the same
'Cause we've all grown up, and we've got our lives
And the values that we had once upon a time
Seem stupid now, 'cause the rent must be paid
And some bonds severed, and others made

Now I don't want you to get me wrong
Ideals are fine when you are young
And I must admit we had a laugh
But that's all it was and ever will be

'Cause the burning sky keeps burning bright
And as long as it does (and it always will)
There's no time for dreams when commerce calls
And the taxman's shouting, 'cause he wants his dough
And the wheels of finance won't begin to slow

And it's only us realists who are gonna come through
'Cause there's only one power higher than that of truth
And that's the burning sky

Oh and by the way I must tell you
Before I sign off, that I've got a meeting next week
With the head of a big corporate
I can't disclose who, but I'm sure you'll know it

And the burning sky keeps burning bright
And it won't turn off till it's had enough
It's the greedy bastard who won't give up
And you're just a dreamer if you don't realize
And the sooner you do will be the better for you
Then we'll all be happy, and we'll all be wise
And all bow down to the burning sky

Then we'll all be happy, and we'll all be wise
And together we will live beneath the burning sky

. . .


Here we go again, it's Monday at last,
He's heading for the Waterloo line,
To catch the 8 a.m. fast, its usually dead on time,
Hope it isn't late, got to be there by nine.

Pin stripe suit, clean shirt and tie,
Stops off at the corner shop, to buy The Times
'Good Morning Smithers-Jones'
'How's the wife and home?'
'Did you get the car you've been looking for?'

Let me get inside you, let me take control of you,
We could have some good times,
All this worry will get you down,
I'll give you a new meaning to life - I don't think so.

Sitting on the train, you're nearly there
You're part of the production line,
You're the same as him, you're like tin-sardines,
Get out of the pack, before they peel you back.

Arrive at the office, spot on time,
The clock on the wall hasn't yet struck nine,
'Good Morning Smithers Jones'
'The boss wants to see you alone'
'I hope its the promotion you've been looking for'

Let me get inside you, let me take control of you,
We could have some good times,
All this worry will get you down,
I'll give you a new meaning to life - I don't think so.

'Come in Smithers old boy'
'Take a seat, take the weight off your feet'
'I've some news to tell you'
'There's no longer a position for you' -
'Sorry Smithers Jones'.

Put on the kettle and make some tea
It's all a part of feeling groovie
Put on your slippers turn on the TV
It's all a part of feeling groovie
It's time to relax, now you've worked your arse off
But the only one smilin' is the sun tanned boss
Work and work and work and work till you die
There's plenty more fish in the sea to fry

. . .


Saturday's boys live life with insults,
Drink lots of beer and wait for half time results,
Afternoon tea in the light-a-bite - chat up the girls - they
dig it!
Saturday's girls work in Tesco's and Woolworths,
Wear cheap perfume 'cause its all they can afford,
Go to discos they drink Babycham talk to Jan - in bingo
accents.
Saturdays kids play one arm bandits,
they never win but that's not the point is it,
Dip in silver paper when their pints go flat,
How about that - far out!

Their mums and dads smoke Capstan non filters,
Wallpaper lives 'cause they all die of cancer,
What goes on - what goes wrong.

Save up their money for a holiday,
To Selsey Bill or Bracklesham Bay,
Think about the future - when they'll settle down,
Marry the girl next door - with one on the way.

These are the real creatures that time has forgot,

Not given a thought - its the system -
Hate the system - what's the system?

Saturdays kids live in council houses,
Wear v-necked shirts and baggy trousers,
Drive Cortinas fur trimmed dash boards,
Stains on the seats - in the back of course!

. . .


Sup up your beer and collect your fags -
There's a row going on down near Slough.
Get out your mat and pray to the West.
I'll get out mine and pray for myself.

Thought you were smart when you took them on,
But you didn't take a peep in their artillery room.
All that rugby puts hairs on your chest.
What chance have you got against a tie and a crest?

Hello-Hurray - what a nice day for the Eton Rifles, Eton Rifles.
Hello-Hurray - I hope rain stops play for the Eton Rifles, Eton Rifles.

Thought you were clever when you lit the fuse,
Tore down the house of commons in your brand new shoes,
Composed a revolutionary symphony,
Then went to bed with a charming young thing.

Hello-Hurray - cheers then, mate. It's the Eton Rifles, Eton Rifles.
Hello-Hurray - an extremist scrape with the Eton Rifles, Eton Rifles.

What a catalyst you turned out to be:
Loaded the guns, then you run off home for your tea -
Left me standing like a guilty schoolboy...

What a catalyst you turned out to be:
Loaded the guns, then you run off home for your tea -
Left me standing like a naughty schoolboy...

We came out of it naturally the worst:
Beaten and bloody, and I was sick down my shirt.
We were no match for their untamed wit,
Though some of the lads said they'd be back next week.

Hello-Hurray - it's the price to pay to the Eton Rifles, Eton Rifles.
Hello-Hurray - I'd prefer the plague to the Eton Rifles, Eton Rifles.

Hello-Hurray - it's the price to pay to the Eton Rifles, Eton Rifles.
Hello-Hurray - I'd prefer the plague to the Eton Rifles, Eton Rifles.

Eton Rifles, Eton Rifles!
Eton Rifles, Eton Rifles!

. . .


Whenever I'm with you
Something inside starts burning
Snd my hearts filled with fire
Stop this - it's got a hold on me
I said this ain't the way it's supposed to be

It's like a heatwave burning in my heart
I can't keep from crying
Tearing me apart

Whenever she calls my name
Sounds so soft sweet and plain
Right then, right there
I feel this burning pain
This high blood pressure's got a hold on me
I said this ain't the way love's supposed to be

Whenever I'm with you
Something inside starts burning
And my hearts filled with fire

Something's got me amazed
Don't know what to do
My head's in a haze

. . .


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