What We Ask Is Where We Begin - Disc One - Lyrics

Revisited Song

There's a place that I belong       And it's too far, too far for you to reach                                                 So I remain feeling strange           And a little out of reach

We're revisiting some             Picking up from what's done

It's the strangest sensation     Writing words that have already gone                                     Something hard to relate to           Is this something that we still need?

There's something that I have seen That stops two minds becoming one mind                                           So I remain in my own brain         And a little out of touch 

We're revisiting some               Picking up from what's done There's no specific way                   Of trying to recall               Something when it's gone

It's the strangest sensation     Writing words that have already gone                                     Something hard to relate to           Is this something that we still need?

That we still need...

 

Before We Bow Down

All the pieces set, to play a round of chess, hoping to find rest       Doesn't it feel strange, to be the piece of choice, in someone else's game

Even as things stand, we can look, and try to understand                       A question is the thing, what we ask is where we begin 

Before we can trust in anything we need to trust ourselves             Before we are led down any path down any road shouldn't we look Before we bow down to anything to anyone we need to be sure

Everything unfolds just the way it should without the need to push Doesn't it seem strange to find that you've been lost inside of your own game

Before we can trust in anything we need to trust ourselves             Before we are led down any path down any road shouldn't we look Before we bow down to anything to anyone 

Before we bow down to anything to anyone...

 

Cast Adrift

I'm in mind to move away from here let me explain                           I'd build a ship for the purpose of folding space, the time would be near

Kids T.V it's changed                   What happened to Camberwick Green?                                             And now we're cast adrift amongst the current hits I missed

I know people have nostalgia for flares and tight fitting pants          

A time of change in people minds was left to slip through our hands 

Kids T.V it's changed                   What happened to Ulysses?            And now we're cast adrift amongst the current hits

All of the colours, the green in the leaves, the stone in the wall         The pebbles we're kicking, the grass underfoot, it's all understood Climbing the hill a plane overhead the sliver cloud bursting                   A moment of relief

A moment of relief

Kids T.V it's changed                   What happened to The Cities of Gold?                                                  And now we're cast adrift amongst the current hits

 

  

Juniper

Juniper knew that the kite he flew Held him up from the ground that took his mum, the ground that took, the ground that took his mum

Number 12 Alice Road is where he lives, a place where bushes and trees line the street                             He believed in himself that he would live, he'd fly his kite to keep his feet light, stopping the ground pulling him down (he says)

"You've got a debt to pay to me     For taking mums life away before tea"                                                     And Juniper knew, Juniper knew, Juniper knew if he flew he'd be saved 

From a fate in a world to which he can't relate, this nylon string wrapped round a ring and held in his fingers                                       This thread, thinnest thread is keeping his head from his greatest dread, will he drop dead? If the string's broken

(Juniper)

"The wind has been whispering lately, encouraging words they steady me                                     Feet in the mud keep slipping, soles to the ground ain't gripping Outwards and upwards is higher over the school and the church tower, I followed my own solutions breaching the walls I'm breaking through.

I'm breaking through!"

 

Little Machines

Clothes made by little folk who live in trees and feed on all the leaves, in trees 

They mend all the things you break maybe by mistake and even hearts that ache

Food cooked by little men who live in machines and people don't understand these little machines

Then feed, feed my hungry mouth and clean, clean up all my mess

Because they work too hard just give them some time, time to unwind                                           They work too hard, just give them some time to unwind 

Screens and pictures that we see that open our minds to things that we'd never dream, I never dream 

We watch, watch with bated breath while they dream, dream of time to rest 

Because they work too hard just give them some time, time to unwind                                           They work too hard, just give them some time to unwind

Milo

The pileup, the ever mounting pile of songs I don't know the names of I can't choose 

The authors, they seem of little consequence I'm loosing my interest in all that I consume 

Hold on there must be something else

The crackle, the interfering crackle is seeping into my hearing but I don't care 

Hold on there must be something else

Hold on there must be something else

Someone Else's Words

Joe is a spark to light me a fire that I might feed on                               The flick of a page to fuel the heat that's burning in the hearth   Picture's a wash glossy to touch but fame that soon fades             Down in my heart flick me some change or leave me alone

But Neil's in my heart and I won't fade                                                   He won't be denied and I won't fade

A sinner I think and therefore I am and you may criticise                   But reviews view I don't think like you been blessed with my own mind They're kicking around town to town to hype or to trash but I'm Listening clear and watch with a stare so show me what's real 

But Neil's in my heart and I won't fade                                                   He won't be denied and I won't fade

Listen today and speak with such grace, just hold your tongue and your lips pressed with finger tips, hold still and listen 

And you speak today thoughts of your own possessing your words they're all yours to own, don't post them away into someone else's hands and someone else's words

I'll change for the better to even the ground with praise for those unsung                                               To even the  difference and shorten the distance for those who remain young  It's a quality's trait to hide among fakes of which we've all heard                                         Along with the greats that writers negate I believe in one

Neil's in my heart and I won't fade   He won't be denied and I won't fade

Hedonic Treadmill

Caught in a snare, call it a trap, is it laid by intention? There's one seminal fact 

Our life's full of need, unfulfillable need it's planted inside us and growing like seed

There're pictures on the Tube we're smiling back at trips away in Spain Racing around the bend our screeching minds are driving us insane

Caught in a sail, it's 40 degrees, the people are flowing along with the breeze

The grounds on a track, they're moving the rail, rally the troops but never set sail

You never set sail

And all along we've been raised to believe the more we have the more we achieve                                         A feeling of vacuity and the need to satisfy is the straw that's gonna bring us to our knees. 

Good morning, its morning you've been caught in your dreaming  

Good morning, its morning you've been caught in your dreaming  

Good morn', good morn', good morning

And all along we've been raised to believe the more we have the more we achieve                                         A feeling of vacuity and the need to satisfy is the straw that's gonna bring us to our knees. 

 

 

Ace Train

Am I loose in the brain?         Clinically flawed                       Maybe insane                                 Well who am I?                                 The kid who played with           Broken little toys for broken little boys

I see red in all you do-gooders lives I'll leave a legacy to your surprise And when the dust has cleared from this wreck I'll be immortalised 

We're rolling fast                       Nearly full steam                             My blood's running cold                 But burning hot within                   I've got this chance to take or leave Just a few seconds more, just a few seconds more

And there's this station man in the way                                                     To stop my appointment with destinies fate They'll commit me to paper and ink                           There's no time to stop There's no time to think

An ace train                               Ripping down the B line           Tearing up the sleepers           They'll remember this one

Remember this one!

Morning Sun

Racing home from                       The form of 9AC                             On the cinder track                

An hours respite from                       A complete departure from       What our day time lacks

Up from the pavement                 Climb upon the wall                           A shortcut to the door 

The first to arrive         Commandeers the T.V.                      A sacred teenage law    

Oh no!

The clock is ticking down the seconds we have left                       The morning sun helps us along The smallest chance to feel sand upon our feet                                   The morning sun and Roger's gong

Waiting round for                         And listening with intent                  The sound that will alarm 

We know that we're loosing our calm 

Oh no!

The clock is ticking down the seconds we have left                       The morning sun helps us along The smallest chance to feel sand upon our feet                                   The morning sun and Roger's gong

Echoes from a distant time when we were scheming...

 

What We Ask Is Where We Begin - Disc Two - Lyrics

New Streets

New streets are's old as the road And the men that built them

Red lights so bright and so full Give me time to reflect on that

I'm not as young as I look             But I'm not as old as I feel                 I stand firm fixed to the ground and wait for my chance to come  

Buildings so tall and people are small                                     Manholes that steam a million neon dreams

I'm not as young as I look             But I'm not as old as I feel                 I stand firm fixed to the ground and wait for my chance to come  

Share My Blues

My brain aches but yours is straight

Who's gonna fit these shoes and share my blues

My teeth ain't straight but you wore a brace

Who's gonna fit these shoes and share my blues

I believe that you belong but wake too early and work too long               I sleep late, you don't rate who I am, It's enough said

Do I talk too much in rhymes and such 

Are you gonna wear these shoes and share my blues 

I believe that you belong but wake too early and work too long               I sleep late, you don't rate who I am, It's enough said

(Believing) that I was destined for, It's useless thinking like that 

Now I'm struck down, no sharing of time with anyone else

In this I can find no help... 

I believe that you belong but wake too early and work too long               I sleep late, you don't rate who I am, It's enough said

And whose gonna fit these shoes and share my blues

Nothing Left To Prove

If people simplified their lives Individuals set aside their pride

The ground would be as firm         As all of us discern a

Concealed happening               Come on it's happening

We're equals, equally contrived Derived meaning from understanding life

A concealed happening               Come on it's happening     Conceive it's happening           Come on it's happening                   A concealed happening               Come on it's happening  

It's happening...

If people want the truth             Their too afraid to say it               The skeptic's on the wrong foot There's nothing left to prove...

It's happening...

There's nothing left to prove Nothing left to say                   There's nothing left to prove Nothing left to say 

Cartoon Friends

Time flies by in a pedal-powered car

The closer to the ground it seems the faster things are

There's people growing up Still feeling down

Are memory's going stale?

I remember being three       Cartoon friends embroidered on a fleece                                               The Clangers whistle by my feet Scaring birds on Pigeon Street

Pappa's kind of frightened               As disaster hastens                         Even the Moomins fail  

Dr Who would be their         Springing out from nowhere       The Cybermen might prevail

Waking up after counting sheep Pan awaits boys in sleep

I used to fly just above the house My marbles are in the draw

Simple, simple, simple sleep         Mr Men were printed on a sheet Keeping all inside our walls         Safe from dinosaur's claws

In the changing room and             All the costumes have gone   Hoping that Ben's alright 

On the beach with sand and Chasing after seagulls         Portland Bill's out of sight 

After closing time and                     All the people have gone       Creatures then come to life

When things fall apart and               I don't know what to do then     Why don't I see the mice

Dressed Up In Rags

Mid summer's sun, mid afternoon It feels like a furnace in here         But clearly the sky doesn't care 

A white clouded lizard flicks its tongue                                                 It spits and it licks at the sun     Who replies by descending

And I must speak out for clowns who've lost their way                 They're down in the street dressed up in rags to deceive your eye

And these days are long as they're wide                                                     I'm cross stroke swimming the tide Stuck in a puddle of treacle

I walk in the dark and under the moon                                               And you with your dinner plate and spoon                                                   I hope the flying cow brings you down soon 

And I must speak out for comics who've lost their laughs         They're down in the street dressed up in rags to deceive your eye

And I must speak out for for my jester who has yet to arrive         He's down in the street dressed up in rags

 

To Them Only

The creatures beneath us are crumbling down all the roots

Flies swarm around hay that once was growing in the ground as corn

The consequence a human truth means everything that's done becomes undone                       Simple rules allow us the chance to change ourselves at the root 

The atmosphere on which we depend is wrinkling our skin as we breath 

Cigarette smoke in your lungs is pointing us towards what's being denied 

The consequence a human truth means everything that's done becomes undone                       Simple rules allow us the chance to change ourselves at the root

Lead us from our doing wrong Keep the stretchers in our rooms Bring insight into this world         Let us see what's really true