Tom Williams & The Boat - Voicemail | Текст песни

• Тексты песен
• Tom Williams & The Boat
• Voicemail

http://vk.com/tomwilliamsboat

Back from the streets with my heart in my feet,
Beaten ’neath soles that are leather and smooth, wet to the touch.
Slammed back door to awake my dad,
cos I want him to hear what’s wrong and what I’m here for.

What I’m here for
is: 1. I didn’t actually ask for this;
2. Don’t know how they got my address;
and 3. I’m not a bloody terrorist.

Basically, a package arrived on my doorstep,
a special delivery, word-processed note
and a foreign inscription, printing all over it.
So my dad ripped into it, and I’d been sent an alarm clock*,
with leaflets and all sorts, home alchemy and that.

He rang his mates to ask advice,
and they dripped it to the paper.
Recruiting in our town, our little insular, holier-than-thou town
that exists out of time, space, life, emotions, rubbish.
And I got such grief at school, too, even worse than normal.
I thought, “Oh, fuck it. You think I’m a terrorist, I’m gonna fuckin’ act like one.”
A bit immature, I know, but I was completely wound up.

Anyway, I’m in the car now. I’m sorry for this long voicemail –
I always do this. I know you’ve got no credit.
I should be with you in about two hours.
All right, man, take it easy, see you soon. Yeah!