‘At One Stride’ Lyrics

‘Land Of The Long White Cloud’ Lyrics

‘Baggy Trousers’ Lyrics

‘Alright Now’ Lyrics

‘Eight Years’ Lyrics

‘That’s Right Part 2’ Lyrics

again the boys are back in town
and_kicking_it
people trying to make the picture fit the frame and I’m sick of it
Instate a great estate
know this dark tower doom
casting shadows in gloom until the last flower blooms
hearing harsh words from hard mouths
armed with sharp teeth
an army of dumb chiefs and large crowds
rhymes darken beneath
whining lines define the faces of those who are down
a warped stance and a weary dance from the weight of the crap you cart ’round
why don’t you quit with the bullshit and come into the fields
I despise lies but I understand how you feel…
getting a bit sick of that tether aye
tired of keeping one eye upon the weather aye
bearing down under your cares now aye
pull yourself together
skull this beer down mate
Exhuming skeletons of talentless embellishment
in this establishment
decomposing flows arose in a hellish scent
sick flavours I can taste of intellectual waste
invoke the local shout to bring about our saving grace
in this gravewards race our dreams lack support
last report I heard you’re charging art not docking sport:
Fellas keep telling me: Hip-Hop’s about originality
whilst sporting as many original bones as a rat made of gelatine
you can yell and scream and sound extreme and say not a bean
you’re just expelling steam from a well of bad dreams
in time when you try and discard your mask
by and by
you’ll find reality’s passed
and the facade you were wearing so bold as brass
has forged and molded a real life cast
and your words’ll run thin, as a bin of tins and glass jars
Unwanted recycleables until the very last bars
Choose unwillingness and nothing’s as right as rain
on the high plains don’t die saying:
“Nothing compares to my pain.”
We’re all the same
this exchange should make it plain
sneaks and liars
cheats for hire: Let all that weakness expire
Kindling would start a fire
get set you better realise
I can see right through lies with my super pupil eel eyes
Walk straight? See straight? You can’t even talk straight let alone relate
“There’s no cabbages growing on our cabbage trees mate.”
Banners mark the heart of the great estate’s grandest art
the rhyme starts when half the land is dark
stand apart to understand a clue to view right through
I do what I do
you decide what guides you…
Different day-the-game’s-the-same
I’ve seen it right up close
one day it’s a toast the next it’s dried up toast
I boast an eye for pretty stuff like a magpie on a flagpole
or a shag high on a crag
I’ve dragged my bagpipes like a ragdoll
across the fair plains to the battlefields of Upland Downs
I’ve endured a reigns ups ‘n’ downs and now given up crowns
And saw the walls come tumbling down into the rumbling ground
as the dust cleared I was left with what I had when I was unbound…
Looking a little bit worse for wear aye
feeling a tad under the weather aye
Had too much gin and wine with your beer aye
Y’know y’shouldn’t mix your bloody drinks together mate!
Suppose opinions oppose
only those people know
as sure as blood flows there’ll be those hangin’ out ’til the last pub’s closed
Plentiful days in many ways the
phase has passed now
the farther down you go the harder it is to ask for help
how do you get up every morning feeling as has been as grist
as wasted as burnt gasoline, as mean as shit
dragging this body through a mist of antagonists,
almost flaggin’ this
fading to a shade of haggard sadness
I intimately know that road I’ve had this
looking in the jagged mirror seeing only badness…
Don’t waste your time wallowing down in the dumps feeling fed up
today’s the day, if you want to make it then get up
Don’t waste your time reading leaves at the bottom of your teacup
Today’s the day, if you want to say it then speak up
Well
my dad calls me a slacker
but in fact if the pay is right I’ll do a hard days yakka
I’m too smart for my own good I get on despite that
give me a nine to five and I’ll give it right back
We’re creating our own maps perhaps it’s due
that’s right, too right, we two do what we do
yeah it’s like that standing opposite the fish and chip shop
I bump my head when I listen to Hip-Hop
I bump my head
I bump my head
I bump my head when I listen to Hip-Hop
We don’t care where as long as it’s here
as long as it’s here we don’t care where
Save a place for me to schmooze at the bar and save that last glass
of booze ’cause I think I’ll watch you trip on your shoes in this last dance
At the last glance when I focused on goodness bad screamed
how bad things get depends on how bad things seem
at the end of the day
make your peace at night
sleep easy, face your fears, take your fate and say that’s right
You caught a bad spell?
Well that’s too bad mate
wake up
shake a leg and get out of that sad state
your back’s hell bent enough to be what granddads hate
it seems like you’ve forgotten, well we’ll have to set you lads straight
I don’t have to be the way you want to make you feel good
i don’t have to say the words you want to hear to please your ear
i don’t have to dress in a pressed suit or address crews just to impress you
i don’t have to say ‘hip-hop. hip-hop’ to be true

‘The Law Of The Land’ Lyrics

‘Southward Bound’ Lyrics

‘The Shrithing’ Lyrics

‘You Beauty: DT Blues’ Lyrics

‘Back On The Farm’ Lyrics

‘Sons Of The South Reprise’ Lyrics

‘John Walker’ Lyrics

‘Zealman 2’ Lyrics

‘ShooFly’ Lyrics

‘Lindon’ Lyrics

‘Canterbury Drafts’ Lyrics

I keep hearing voices calling me onward
a few paces ahead on the path that I’ve often wandered
born earth child I hear first the call of the wild
you’ll find me sleeping on the hills when the weather gets mild
styled a zealman in more ways than one
organic process starts, illumination’s begun
congregations come gather so the crew shines on
it’s long overdue so let me get my white whine on
rhyme on time all the time: I never stop
if the lines don’t align then the structures gonna drop
so the foreman’s on site from foundation to the rafter
protractor in hand master plan canterbury drafter
I remember a time when all four walls were oaken
wise spoken a fine morning finally broken
awoken – the spirit of old
lyrics we mould pure endurance in the cold
smouldering embers spark smoke in the winter
scraping up splinters blowing hard on the cinders
in the South step out of the house days dawn
refining my fingerprints since the day I was born
’cause warnings never lessen when you listen to lessons:learn!
to live every day above and leave alone the concern
but turn unchill I climb uphill to capture spillage
from this vantage point I could map out the whole village
for the canterbury craftsman drafting a rhymeplan:
Zeal Land: Do whatever you feel man:
Dredging deadwood from the depths of a mire
if the dialogue’s so tired why are you clogging the fire
crap pseudonyms are hymns to the death of what’s admired
you can watch us placing limbs on the funeral pyre
I heard some voices which led me from my old stomping ground
gave me some choices; the first one was to stay around
and stagnate and rot in a sea of non-creation
those big headed headz are far too small for complication
the second: board a ship and sail abroad to start afresh
but I have to accomplish the hardest part before I depart I guess
so I chose the third: saddle up; ride out or bust
far behind I left collisions within my cloud of dust
Something I’ve been fighting with for years tears out what’s inside of me
why can’t you see ? the rot’s in your society
what blots your sight? A blighted copy’s what you try to be
whilst spreading nothing more than mere mutterings of war
hip hop’s an artform you do nothing for
it’s your own situation of lack and loss you frown for
I’m standing outdoors getting drenched by the downpour:
you’re welcome not to feel us; this stuff’s the REAL US
in fact: you not listening to us would be a real plus
It’s time to log on: This is darktowerrepublic dotcom
it’s just him and me we don’t pretend to be from where we’re not from…
It’s just us from beginning to end
we’re not in this to fit in or win friends
I’ve been scoring up plans
drafts written in cold air
and drawing a land
stripping the soul bare
I scrawl my plans with a pen from all lands to the end
found my path descending then I began the mending
I sought half the truth in the sand and the glen
then found it all depends on whether you trans-to the-scend
I’ve been scoring up plans
drafts written in cold air
and drawing a land
stripping the soul bare
DT to CD to BDC
Some say the past is the past /so let it pass
some say the past; it forms your future /that’s how long it lasts
some say the path is the way you should follow/and follow fast
I say the path is made as you walk: Canterbury Drafts!

‘Outro: A Line Will Take Us Hours’ Lyrics