Thursday 1 October 2009

The Bones Of You - Elbow

So I'm there
Charging around with a juggernaut brow
Overdraft, speeches and deadlines to make
Cramming commitments like cats in a sack
Telephone burn and a purposeful gait

When out of a doorway the tentacles stretch
Of a song that I know
And the world moves in slow-mo
Straight to my head
like the first cigarette of the day

And it's you, and it's May
And we're sleeping through the day
And I'm five years ago
And three thousand miles away

Do I have time? A man of my calibre
Stood in the street like a sleepwalking teenager
No. And I dealt with this years ago
I took a hammer to every memento
But image on image like beads on a rosary
pulled through my head as the music takes hold
and the sickener hits; I can work till I break
but I love the bones of you
That, I will never escape

And I can't move my arm
Through the fear that you will wake
And I'm five years ago
And three thousand miles away

The Bones Of You is taken from Elbow's fourth and Mercury Music Prize winning album, Seldom Seen Kid. 


I could write pages and pages about the lyrics to this song, but take some time to absorb them yourself, they'll probably mean something different to you anyway.

1 comment:

  1. I absolutely agree, Garvey is truly a poet for the people. I heard him once in an interview talking about how youth worker in Manchester uses the lyrics to 'Scattered Black & Whites' as a poem to work with young offenders.

    Scattered Black & Whites
    IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII
    Been climbing trees I've skinned my knees
    My hands are black the sun is going down
    She scruffs my hair in the kitchen steam
    She's listening to the dream I weaved today
    Crosswords through the bathroom door
    While someone sings the theme-tune to the news
    And my sister buzzes through the room leaving perfume in the air
    And that's what triggered this.
    I come back here from time to time
    I shelter here some days.

    A high-back chair. He sits and stares
    A thousand yards and whistles
    Marching-band (Boom-ching)
    Kneeling by and speaking up
    He reaches out and I take a
    Massive hand. Disjointed tales
    That flit between short trousers
    And a full dress uniform
    And he talks of people ten years
    Gone like I've known them all my life
    Like scattered black 'n' whites

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