Vic Godard - Everybody's Scared Now - Lyrics

Gotta squash that headline before the deadline

To keep your poor revolving head above the breadline

Envy and malice rife in the palace

Symptomatic of this modern bleedin’ breed

You all crave riches-so we give you riches

And then your belly gets so full you burst your breeches

And polo ponies that you would show me

If I should come to hurlingham to have high tea

Get up on top get up on top make sure you don’t stop

Get up on top careful you don’t drop 

Get up on top because it’s hellish below

Get up on top or else it don’t look good to me

Lobsters and scallops for all your trollopes

Without a thing to do from day to day but lollop

Ten gold medallion brood mares and stallions

And a quaint little chalet for when you ski

Only the finest fit for his highness

Who has been cursed in a reversal of king midas

And on this city beams down his pity

As proles are blown about beneath these monstrous schemes

Get up on top get up on top

Make sure you don’t stop........

C’est toujours mal

What’s it like for the shy polite boy

Flung in among the louts

Who tries to hide in the darkest corner

While those around sing and shout

Searching for a familiar face, and

Not finding one, a way out?

C’est toujours mal, c’est toujours mal

Toujours mal ,toujours mal,toujours mal,toujours.

What’s it like for a born survivor

The one with all the know-how

Confronted by the unfathomable

To finally throw in the towel

And be muy bien-ning till three a.m

To a ‘como estas’ or’ que tal’

C’est toujours mal

C’est toujours mal 

C’est toujours mal,mal,mal,mal

What’s it like for an old retainer

To end up on the heap now

Racked with pain from the last campaign

Too old and fragile to bow

For fear of not standing up again

Thinking maybe he never shall

C’est toujours mal, C’est toujours mal

Comical scenes always feeling starving

Different drummers every tour

All the ummin’ and arrin’

Being thrown to the wolves

Couldn’t stop ‘em snarlin’

Had the odds stacked up against us

Summer was long

Winter was much longer

And the missiles that missed must have made us stronger

With our red exercise book for the songs

We had a high ole time together 

Who would’ve thought at the outset

We’d’ve  made much of a splash?

Who would’ve thought at the end of it

All we’d have left were the pills and the trash?

On the chase one night

In the lower mortlake shop

And hearing knock knock knock

Shit ! Quick! It’s a cop!

And strolling over to the door

With my bucket and mop

Him saying ‘sorry- saw a light-good night sir’

A hue and a cry

Around sutton town

Guards look left guards look right 

Scratch their heads but

We’re sittin’ pretty slumped low, up top on the bus

Havin’ a high ole time together

Then we were saved on probation

Most lenient sentence allowed

Scooting up tooting bec high street

Skipped our way through the crowd

Two hearts on a cloud

And now I can see I’ve been lifting the lid

I had a flutter and lost  I’m glad that I did

I know from dredging up things found in various bins

We had a high ole time together

When tragedy wins comedy begins

We had a high ole time together

We had a high ole time together

We had a high....... Ole........Time... Together

Ever had a dance with someone

Someone  who believed you once?

When you said you’d had enough of

Stages where you used to prance

Been to many quaint locations

Never had an hour to browse

Lived a life without vacations

One day if the jailor allows

So I’ll just paint or write In wan light off me ole TV

Outside, a bird sings a melody

then spend the night- time trying to get back where I used to be

Until the life’s drained out of me

Speeding every day to somewhere 

Never on the road we’re shown

getting blown off course we won’t care

ready to meet the unknown

Wandering in strange directions

Stumbling down a steeper slope

Learning to live with discomfort

And somehow being able to cope

never try to do cross- overs

It’s a parasite’s abode

keep on chasing four-leaf clovers

and let them go on with their show 

I just paint or write in wan light off me ole TV

Outside the bird sings a melody

Then spend the night-time trying to get back where I used to be

Until the life’s drained out of me 

I’ve binned a thousand rhymes never destined to find a pearl

I’ve been a part-timer in two worlds

And, like Louis Bertrand, too stubborn to admit defeat

Until the life’s drained out

Until the life’s drained out

Until the life’s drained out of me 

Mr Philpott taught me the lot, oft sung in Bel Can,to

Came on stage clip-clipperty-clop; villain of the panto

Singing ‘the fee’s too low even for me solo

And when I do the sums it’s costing me to go

Then add to that all the aggro

I’ve learned at last to say no’

Oye mama what fools we are! 

We travel far, pluck a guitar

And all that for more failure

Oye mama; es la verdad

In ’78 I was twenty-one; a peculiar time to step back

By 2021 I was done; one too many setbacks

Saying ‘the fuel went up and then food went up

Sales fell off a cliff and then Liz Truss popped up

LPs stacked ceiling down to floor

The roof is of asbestos’

Oye mama what fools we are!

We travel far, pluck a guitar

And all that for more failure

Oye mama; es la verdad 

Lo quero pero no hay dinero

Soy mendingo pero no soy mentidero

Malbaratar mi mercancia; darme vuestro pesos

They came with their carts and drays

And stayed over Rocks Lane

Unwelcome guests

no tent unless you’re blessed

then  they were crammed in shacks

down  by Railway Side

and  forced by the state

to  integrate

Aargh needle I ain’t puttin’ you on To hell with your song!

Don’t care  if it’s Frankie Valli, I,I can’t take it, I can’t take it

Needle I  ain’t  puttin’ you on

Better not depress the stylus button!

Oh, needle I  ain’t  puttin’ you on,I  can’t take it I can’t take it

Two kids on play on Mill Hil

Must’ve been about nine

We found a man dead

Shot through the head

Bill-baiting used to be 

Our favourite pastime

Now we’re not playing 

Their faces turn grey

From  down the Shoreline we

Could see no horizon

No Sweden, no Spain, no Leeds in the rain

But  playin’ was great

We always surprised ‘em

A spit and a glare

We  couldn’t’ve  cared 

Mill Hill’s still there

Not far from where Marc died 

Not far from the tents 

They put up for the fair 

back in the day you might see  MIcky Finn down the Manor Arms

Roger Chapman is in the Sun Inn

(Unless he’s round the bookies in the High Street with his mate who owns the Sun Inn)

In the other bookies up by the Red Lion 

You might see  Sam Kydd

Whereas Alan Price he’d be in the Watermans Arms 

Next door to the Bull’s Head (where I once saw the great Mose Allison) 

And just round the corner would be Mike Allway

Who’d be in the Coach and Horses

He’s  just seen Honor Blackman in Budgens 

And that’s given him a great idea

Dillinger or a young Denis Bovell (who we knew by the name Blackbeard) might be visiting Mr and Mrs Hassell in Nassau Road for some dubplate business

Then of course my uncle Ginger

Who would have a pint in each of the above en route to his final resting place

 Down the Hare and Hounds

But that’s Mortlake and East Sheen, SW !4

and  that’s another story......