Flora Greysteel EP (2016)
The Taxman Cometh
“Oranges and lemons” say the bells of St Clement’s
Make lemonade, but you can’t pay me in fruit
When the taxman is coming and I owe him money
Your smiles and your promises do me no good
For months you’ve been saying tomorrow’s the day
That you’ll pay me and all will turn out for the best
But the bills are amassing and tax is increasing
Banks are displaying far too much interest
“When will you pay me?” say the bells of old Bailey
They’re hungry and clamouring out for your blood
But I’ve had enough of your arrogant bluffing
When blustering won’t make the bureaucrats budge
Your sheepish smile is not convincing me
Of anything you choose to tell me
You say you are so much better than anyone else
You poor thing, your least sin is deluding yourself
Here comes the candle to light you to bed
Here’s come the statement, it’s written in red
Here comes the taxman to collect your debt
Here’s come the hangman to chop off your head
This Is A Thing
I don’t know quite where this is going to
So I’ll just wait until the situation takes its toll
We’ll take it in turns to have panic attacks
About what we are doing
Because we’re both new to the thought that
This is a thing that might really happen
I’ll pick apart every thought in my head
And you’re keeping quite quiet about what I said
But I guess what it comes to: I think I might like you
You’re waiting for me to say that it’s ok
A harmless flirtation that didn’t lead to nothing
I kissed you because there was no reason not to
Well, we can have arguments about who started it
But it won’t change that we’re both actually fine with it
More than that, possibly, we could be happy
And maybe that means that this will all be ok
This house is a mess
And I am living in this filth
And the doctor would say
That it is bad for my health
But I have better, better things to do
Than always tidy up after
Is it any wonder that you can’t catch your breath
When the air you’re breathing in is saturated with the dust from the last mess you made?
Can you remember when was the last time you washed a plate?
Aren’t you embarrassed that every room in this house is in a state?
She sits on her shelf in her cardboard slip and cellophane
She's looking down on the other toys
And watching all their childish games
When she's on her best behaviour
She's at war with Mother Nature
Hormonal fixes get you nowhere
But self-control's an issue when you're near her
What's the matter dear?
Is hardwired dogma crawling up your spine?
Don't come closer dear
Because you might slip and lose your peace of mind.
Your moral equation is simply outdated
It doesn't do to come out with it in public
Corsets, suspenders and double entendres
You're working your way through clichés
Put on a dress but it won't touch the ground
Because you've grown, you’ve grown, you’ve grown,
You’ve grown so much that the shelf might break
If you don't decide, decide, decide which side to come
Down with childlike innocence where Mother's word is writ,
But your friends say you're an innocent,
And besides it's so much fun being seductive.
But she misunderstands.
She sits on her shelf in her cardboard slip and cellophane.
She borrows dreams from the other toys
Just to convince them she can play.