Damn Poets

by Kings Of Last Night

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released June 3, 2011

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Kings Of Last Night Den Haag, Netherlands

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Track Name: Hello DJ
Hello DJ, could you play a simple song

Man, these drivetime jokes leave me stuck in a jam
We all try to hit the post, sometimes we talk on the ramp
Me, I’m a first-time caller with a lot to confess
To a graveyard shift call-in host who is hardly impressed

Hello DJ, could you play a simpler song
Hello DJ, and make us believe we all belong

Here’s to a bitter shock jock who’s been stuck in denial
Since he caught a breath of dead air somewhere left of the dial
Me, I’m a long-time listener with some axes to grind
But even when you let me down I never left you behind

So backsell me, just for tonight

Hello DJ, could you play an even simpler song
Hello DJ, to make us believe we all belong

For a long time now I’ve been stuck on the top
Of the hour and there is no news to report
It’s a long way to Brussels without a song in your mind
So payola ayatollahs push the fader up high

Hello DJ, could you play us the simplest song
Hello DJ, trick us into believing that we all belong

Hello DJ, tell me it’s gonna be alright
Even if only for tonight
Track Name: Run to the Dancefloor
I’m not saying it was a simpler life
Just that we didn’t have the manual
We were inherently justified
And we styled ourselves invincible

Hanging at the back of a darkened hall
All alcohol, all adrenaline
The wisest of DJs starts up a new song
And the cymbals come crashing in

And you run to the dancefloor
Exercise the right
Run to the dancefloor
Dance with all your might

Run to the dancefloor

State a case for the finer things in life
Such as which of the girls is dating whom
Excuse yourself from the pool table
When familiar guitars light up the room

And you run to the dancefloor
You know she’s watching you
Run to the dancefloor
You know she likes it

Run to the dancefloor

Give me A minor seventh chords
Rusty violins
And a singer who sincerely seeks the truth

If everything else fades in mist
At least you can say that you were there

And you run to the dancefloor
The party never stops
Run to the dancefloor
Dance until you drop

Run to the dancefloor
Track Name: Miss Belgium
She speaks two languages at once
Not counting German, but who does
I’ve invented senseless words
that I’m sure she understands
All I’ll say is, it glides for me

She is Miss Belgium
She knows all the coolest bands
She is Miss Belgium
Slaying giants and severing hands

I am the last great useless work
I am the old news of these times
But she evokes the mystery without which
the world wouldn’t exist
And I’ve been meaning to crack all week

Sleep thrice more and I shall wake

They call her Miss Belgium
Mistress of endless compromise
Her name is Miss Belgium
Red devils burning in her eyes

She invented the bakelite saxophone
Pretender to the waffle iron throne
She paints big girls in her spare time
A southern neighbour in her prime

When I get confused, I hail Gambrinus’ muse
All hail Gambrinus’ muse

And her name is Miss Belgium
For fun she draws absurdist cartoons
Oh, Miss Belgium
Ten thousand thundering typhoons

They call her Miss Belgium
She knows the Marseillaise by heart
Miss Belgium
Of apple blossoms smells her art

Oh Miss Belgium, let’s not ever be apart
Oh Belgium, don’t break my heart
Track Name: Golden Ratio
You just want an excuse to dance
Any cheap reason will do
Who am I to disagree?

I've tried to find the pattern
Golden ratio of song
Composed melodic algorithms
To find what I've been doing wrong

But no one listens to the lyrics
Søren Kierkegaard in drag
And every victory is pyrrhic
But this one's surely in the bag

I finally understand

You just want an excuse to dance
Any cheap reason will do
Who am I to disagree?

You just want an excuse to dance
How could I deny it to you
When there's two of you and me

We all want to be the poet
Lifting hearts across the globe
Strolling minstrels inchoate
Caressing all kinds of frontal lobes

So you string some words together
And stir in a pounding beat
Then you wonder as to whether
It will move hearts as well as feet

I finally understand

You just want an excuse to dance
Any old reason will do
Who am I to get in between?

You just want an excuse to dance
Well, if the music's moving you
How could I even disagree

You just want an excuse to dance
Any good reason will do
Who am I to say you're wrong?

You just want an excuse to dance
Well that makes two of me and you
I was on your side all along

Well here is your excuse to dance
We've found an excuse to dance
Who needs an excuse to dance
When you've got every other song
Track Name: Manhattan Is an Island
This town has answered seven of my questions
And then opened forty-nine
I could submerge into the Hudson
And then resurface on the Rhine

I don’t see how Waverley Place
Can intersect with itself
I must be on the crosstown fault line
Of the city’s continental shelf

I do not know the sound
Of one hand clapping in the woods
Shoe-tying 101
I have barely understood

Even with my eyes wide open
I can hardly tell the day from night
But I know Manhattan is an island
Tonight

Could someone tell me where I’m going
I just came here on a whim
These legs have carried me forever
Now they’re turning into phantom limbs

Explain how we go from strolling
Around Tompkins Square Park
To an untimely demise
In the courtyard of St. Mark’s

Asked for the colour of the sky
I will surely throw a blank
Where the self goes when it dies
Do not ask this mortal man

Ask me to square a circle
And I’ll say “Pi multiplied by height”
But I know Manhattan is an island
Tonight

My hands are going too now
I’m slouching closer to the ground
Is it something I have eaten
What if I’ll never be found

Now I’m on the back of mother’s bike
And my foot got stuck in the spokes
Strange how the mind turns inward
When you’re about to croak

The names of my closest friends
I have all but forgot
Ask me if ignorance is bliss
And you’ll be enlightened on the spot

Quiz me on the twelve apostles
And I will guess one or two right
But I know Manhattan is an island
Tonight

All I know is Manhattan is an island
Tonight
Track Name: Light Sweet Crude
Today I'm sliding doing a slippery slope, and it's delicious
Today I heed nobody's sage advice
Today is a hot car and a song that irks nobody
Today we figure nothing out

Except for a study I've been making of your hair

Let's go somewhere it won't matter where we went, you know I want to
Taste the salt of summer on your lips
I'm tired of wasting time on these bipolar magnet antics
Let's just see for how long we can kiss

Everyone's getting a toothache from
All the sugar in this song
But I really don't give a damn
Give me some more of that light sweet crude

Tomorrow we'll sit down and make a list of all our failings
Tomorrow we'll have grievances to air
Tomorrow we'll grow tired of the chaise-longue hurly-burly
Tomorrow we'll have figured nothing out

But today we make everything appear in Super 8

You'll berate me for my lack of plans and I'll say it's living for today
But as your foot becomes a flag I can't complain about today
Track Name: Retro
Remember when we weren’t yet philosophers
You’d just sit in the back of the car
Watching the sunlight’s flicker
making movies through the trees

Fashion victims congregate for counselling
Heavy hearts of yesteryear
Prepare to be lifted, crackle,
drop the needle in the groove

Retro’s coming back in style
Sooner or later I will be on time
For retro
Is coming back in style

All my friends are asking, “Why so serious?”
I just laugh and say I use my
Irony sincerely (yours truly)

And I swear
That I’m certain
By the greener green apples on the shower curtain
I do believe

What’s the sin in wanting to feel a little lighter?
Track Name: Open and Shut
Then I’m becoming a part of the scene
Then I’ll be coming apart at the seams
Seems like everyone’s on a different quest than I

I’ve stopped complaining long ago
But it was plain all along I know
To solve it you don’t need a private eye

Trench coat, deerstalker hat, I think I’ve wasted my money
Throw out my magnifying glass, because it’s elementary

It’s an open and shut case of the blues

I see new opportunities
In the girl with the porn star teeth
If in three days I’m not back: avenge my life

I want to make new traditions and rules
But now I’d trade in the breaking news
For an hour of quiet, watching Countryfile

Moustache curling upward and a turnip pocket watch
No one buys your disguise when you’re lacking in panache
Track Name: Ordinary Things
I’ve got some things that need figuring out
Like, what are you doing the first Friday in June?
To rectify, I thought my heart had died
And I buried it too soon

Tell me are you getting tired
Of all the games we’re playing
Are you also getting tied up
In all the words you’re saying

The people here are strange
Let’s escape together into our little world
Where we’ll make for stormy weather

I’ve been losing myself in the dire and grim
Humming drab and doleful odes
At long last, some keen spirit has woken
Waiting for you to explode, oh

Tell me are you getting tired
Of all the games we’re playing
Are you also getting tied up
In all the words you’re saying

The people here are strange
Let’s escape together into our little world
Where we’ll make for stormy weather

And lose ourselves
In ordinary things

Suddenly I am looking forward
To pizzas on sofas
On Sunday afternoons
And fights over presents for

Friends I’ve yet to meet
We’ll have nicknames for everything
And songs to claim as ours
Until the walls all start closing in

Tell me are you getting tired
Of all the games we’re playing
Are you also getting tied up
In all the words you’re saying

The people here are strange
Let’s escape together into our little world
Where we’ll make for stormy weather

And we’ll have some fun
With ordinary things
Track Name: Haunted Supermarket
I’ve been between a rock and a hard place
But now I’ve chiseled my way out
From beneath all the wailing voices
I put in my backpack and carry around

Now I’m an unrestricted free agent
In the land of a thousand balconies
With a stack of coupons for free fresh starts
Only valid when it’s the last thing you need

I’m in a haunted supermarket
Where shelves conspire against my name
In a haunted supermarket
With a check-out line that stretches to the grave

So what could I do but abandon it all
For a satanist mother of two
With a big bed in which to sleep away Wednesdays
And a cupboard full of chocolate buns

And so I’m sorry that I ran
You were better than I deserved
In truth I was a petty little man
With the whole world left to learn

Now I’m in a haunted supermarket
Where items randomly appear in your cart
There’s a thousand different newspapers
And only one greeting card

If you get bored in Oklahoma
You can go to Tulsa for the weekend
But I’m in a haunted supermarket
Where the aisles never reach any end

All of the reverse vending machines
Who knows whatever lurks behind
If I find out I’m going to send you a card
That says “Get well soon”: it’s all I could find

Did I mention I was sorry
You know I will always be your slave
But I’m stuck in a haunted supermarket
With a check-out line that stretches to the grave