The Wind-Up Birds - Local Dimming

It's a red rag to our thoughts 
Or it's a disco at a cement works 
This place is a drink that's watered down  
 
We thought self-imposed limits would harmonise our homes 
In this subdued 
Completely politics-free town 
Where the church windows are all smashed right through 
But if you squint you can still make out a saint or two 
 
I've never seen, ever, the fabled street-party tables 
Just all the crappy food with the misspelled labels 
 
But sometimes I see graceful streets 
And they're all connected 
And I see heads poking out 
Ready to explore again 
And even though we are just a sequel to something 
Maybe this time we've earned the feel-good ending 
 
When they moved us out to this dizzy, useable new area 
We pretended it was warm 
When we all knew that it wasn't  
 
This was what life is like 
When you forget how to live it 
We were so overeager to collect what nobody else wants 
 
Our belongings stare back 
Repulsive 
They look like they are drunk 
And we are just one long sigh 
Pushed out with pain relief 
 
We put all our trust in some moody food hygiene certificates 
And ended up cornered by their light-fingered therapies 
 
To all the families who are left behind at midnight  
Who's last nights of freedom 
Were grotty years ago 
I think heart in these crashing circumstances 
I think we can find all the love and excitement  
That's left on Earth 
 
This may be nothing 
Or maybe it's just me 
But I cringe when I hear a Northern accent on TV 
All that reality keeps ripping us to shreds 
They always get it wrong 
All our arms  
And all our legs 
 
Stop now 
Don't trust their legendary illusions  
Where everyone breaks down in tears 
Every fifteen minutes at least 
Ah that odour? 
Well that's a thousand fake, filled-in emotions 
And all the time lost to staring at solitary reflections 
 
I am finding a great number of almost holy places 
Where all the things they taught us 
Have lost most of their weight 
And we can all gather together  
An army of lovers 
An army of lovers who are fine with our mistakes  
 
We laughed at the past 
We ignored the present 
We pretended that the future was here 

Written by:
John Ackroyd

Publisher:
Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid

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