Paul Goodwin - Heat d**h lyrics

This road is more pothole than road, but then elegantly tumbledown is gold To all these champagne starving cardboard cut outs who are living in a crumbling film set And think they're living in a film This year Broadway's like a beacon in the sky over Brooklyn, where the good bands go to die And I hope Bleecker Street is a sad pastiche of what it was in '63 But that stuff was also pretty thin So New York is a theme park full of children, Venice is a museum full of barmen And I can walk the world's great cities and just think about my knees abrading Sagging local royalty with that flawless equine dentistry Shoehorned in a party dress, wheeling out her party piece and another story every week Of “Luka”, cliques and coattails missed and what she let pa** by for this: "But I'd have withered in the suburbs – it's the centre of the universe where nobodies are more than two degrees." "I could never be contented with contentment" says the never-followed-through eternal student But is there a sadder sight than someone clinging to their dreams too long? Success is only other people, and they're mostly not that bright And, you know, no-one else's victories can take away from yours Somehow I let life become just getting things and keeping them And this whole decade past felt like the last years of some golden age – Still not quite too old to spill my guts But better shut up while you're still alright from certain angles in certain lights Have you heard "Among The Leaves"? You'd better leave it to the showbiz London banjo boys With no edge and no heart Offer up the last dregs of your talent, though it's mostly spit and bluster and rejection And then take a lot of photographs, like every failed artist does Or start to write a novel not quite good enough to finish Find something in the everyday: The sky above the motorway The little faces everywhere that haven't yet been disappointed