"There is a crack in everything, that's how the light gets in"
(Leonard Cohen)
"Ignore all proffered rules and create your own, suitable for what you want to say"
(Michael Moorcock)
"Look for your own. Do not do what someone else could do as well as you. Do not say, do not write what someone else could say, could write as well as you. Care for nothing in yourself but what you feel exists nowhere else. And, out of yourself create, impatiently or patiently, the most irreplaceable of beings."
(Andre Gide)
"I want my place, my own place, my true place in the world, my proper sphere, my thing which Nature intended me to perform when she fashioned me thus awry, and which I have vainly sought all my life-time."
(Nathaniel Hawthorne)
“A book must be the axe for the frozen sea within us.”
(Franz Kafka)
"All mankind is of one author, and is one volume; when one man dies, one chapter is not torn out of the book, but translated into a better language; and every chapter must be so translated"
(John Donne)
“Never attribute to malice that which is adequately explained by stupidity.”
(Robert J. Hanlon)
"Life is beautiful, but the world is hell"
(Harold Pinter)

Tuesday, February 23, 2010

"House on the Hill" (Kevin Coyne, 1973)


"Well I'm going to the house upon the hill,
The place where they give you pills
The rooms are always chilled,
They're never cosy

Where they give three suits a year
And at Christmas time a bottle of beer
And at Easter time the mayor comes round,
He's always smiling

Where the old ladies sit by the garden wall
And they never hear the bluebird call
Never notice the leaves that fall cause they're all crazy

Where the red bus stands by the great big gate
The red bus that's always late,
You know why it's always late
Cause it's always empty


Funny, funny, funny, funny, oh so funny that's it's making me cry
Funny, funny, funny, funny, oh so funny Lord, sometimes I wish I could die.

Now this pagan life is getting me down, my brow is filled with a furl and a frown
My eyelids lower as low as can be but I'm not sleeping.

I wander round that Brixton Square with the bottles strewn everywhere
Under tables and under chairs and they're all broken
Where the big red face of the man on the beat Says Hey, have you had something to eat?
Thrusts out his yellow teeth, they're all for biting

Where I don't have a cent and I don't know how I'll pay the rent
I think I'll turn bent and make some money


So if you know a way I can go from out of this show you know
You could give me a golden glow but you're not trying
You'd never lift a regular hand, you call me a lazy man
Who on earth will ever understand I'm really trying

So I'm going to the house upon the hill, the place where they give you pills
And where the doctors they don't kill cause they're so friendly

Where the red bus stands by the great big gate
The red bus and it's always late, you know why it's always late

Because it's always empty"


Live Version on the BBC 1973

2 comments:

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