Panic / David Ford

David Ford at Pocklington Arts Centre, 23 09 11

Exactly where should I begin?
Forgive me father, I have sinned
Caught perpetuating wrongs
I screamed an accusation
Yet convinced that still I can
Somehow be better than I am
If I could only bring myself to step in one direction

Now all the progress I have made has left me bitter and afraid
I'll bolt the doors and let the trappings of my life surround me
And hope to God nobody calls
I'll trust the scratching in the walls
To be my comfort and my shelter from the world around me

Ignore the whisper on the wind
Forgive me father, I have sinned
Right now I swear I'd cling to anything you'd care to show me
To save me from improper thoughts, a modern miracle of sorts
Against the tide of advertising and survival only

A precondition has been set
And every new potential threat must be eradicated from the face of all that's sacred
And none shall stand before the cause
I'll be hysterically yours
And deaf to any reason, evidence or explanation

So tell me what have I become?
A middle finger to the sun
I traded fireworks for love and I was left with nothing
But paper shards and empty shells
A burst of sulfur blown to hell
It just might be that all this history has taught me something

It's taking lessons from the past
I won't build anything to last, but engineer to fall apart the day the warranty expires
So keep the wheels turning round
Keep the flag pinned to the ground
Just don't look back and don't look down
In fact, just don't look at all
Or you'll see opinion dressed as fact and definitions inexact
Explain away the darkest days as misinterpretation

It's like the dumbing down
It's the dumbing down
It's the dumbing down,
It's so uncouth
Like there's one single fucking truth
Like good and bad or right and wrong could be so uncomplicated

Swagger dripping from the stage
I curse the impatience of the age
It all takes time, and time is money
Money talks, and talk is cheap
Cheapest road to lead the way
From seed to forest in a day
And by the time the sun is set there's only dirt and matchwood

So could it be the end is nigh
And the time for idly standing by is now upon us?
Everybody look to some distraction
I throw my patience to the wind
Forgive me father, all my sins
Feel like they're woven double-stitched into the fabric of the world...

http://lyrics.wikia.com/David_Ford:Panic

Category:

Music

Tags:

• Panic
• David Ford
• Pocklington Arts Centre
• Piss Whisky
• mouth organ
• harmonica
• Easyworld
• Sam Gray