Lyrics The Day You Were Bomb - Andy White

Working every day at the title factory
It's a strange place to see your face in continuity
Going solo with Barolo invitation for the many
Raining down on the confusion like Belfast confetti
Belfast confetti

Writing vinyl for a final writing in between the lines
Ink slips between the strips I left somewhere in the sand
Sinking down into the seaweed on the Sandymount Strand
Where there ain't no room for a Red Right Hand
Ain't no room for a red right hand

One day you were a bomber in a beatnik suit
Watching Jean Seberg smoking up a sweet cheroot
Next day you're digging dreams on the manslaughter mile
With the magic in the air and the piggybank smile
The piggybank smile

O strange new world hashtag people innit
Crumbling like a cardinal sleeping in the synod
"Suffer little children" – you said it
Individual cost of Universal Credit

And the razor company and the weapon of the morning
And the message on the hoarding saying 'six forty-five'
It sounded like a number
And another mode running out of trumpet
On a dog and a dollar and a minute
And a bullet in the trumpet

(Ah)

I hit the Cherry Bar to hear a Scot bot talk rot with a slip-slop crop
He was sucking on a daiquiri
Bap-pow he was walking on Wurundjeri
And a hand-picked fan of the man from the Klan
Drinking can after can after can after can and the
Mealy-mouthed words don't deal with the theft of the nation
The septic melody don't deal with the deeds
And the theft of the nation
The mealy-mouthed words don't deal with the death
Of the deeds of the death and the theft of the nation
The day you were bomb
It's a holiday running in reverse
And the band plays on
The band plays on
The day you were bomb
And the band plays on

Your mealy-mouthed words don't deal with
The death of the theft of the nation
Your mealy-mouthed words don't deal with
The death and the theft of the nation

(Ah)

Working every day at the title factory
If it's obvious to you then it's plain to me
If you're living in a colony you wanna end up free
All of the monotony you gotta p & c
Living in the spring of the 21st century
The summer's coming fast hotter than we thought it'd ever be

The day you were bomb

Summer's coming fast hotter than we thought it'd ever be

The day you were bomb

Bomb