your house: full of twigs

from Songs of Idiocy & Expedience by Rick Foot

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lyrics

what was it you wanted to say
about your fallen idol and his slippers of clay
and how the new world order is the price that you pay
and how you hit that rusty nail on the head

what was it you left in the rain
was it a fat deposit on the buffalo train
or just a pastry omelette that you can't quite explain
although you know it'll all make sense when you're dead

the harmolodics and the phonics and the ride back home
the supermarkets and the car keys in a china bowl
you misremembered the dismemberment of Graham's phone
you're overzealous cos you're jealous of the things you own

your future, eaten by goats
so many dickheads, so many votes
your garden, overrun with pigs
your house: full of twigs
everything you make, somebody wrecks it
every single egg got put in one brexit
not just the rigs of the times, these are the times of the rigs
and this is your house
and it's full of twigs

what was it you wanted to ask
about your sweet rebellion that got lost in the past
and how the ghost of the future has been hijacked at last
and now you're living in your uncle Joe's shed

what was it you wanted to be
before this grotesque revisionist history
where the future is the past and the past will set you free
although the truth is that you'd rather be dead

the harmolodics and the phonics and the ride back home
the supermarkets and the car keys in a china bowl
the transformation of a nation where the truth has flown
no more compassion, there's a ration but you're on your own

compulsory clown school, is that what you want
I think you'll find that t shirt is on back to front
is that a cat in a hat or just a pig in a wig
or is it your house, full of twigs

bail out the bankers, throw out the proles
close down the borders cos they're full of holes
the least of these evils is still pretty big
and so is your house, and it's full of twigs

are you sure that's your car, cos I think it's on fire
you'd have to say that chimp has found his heart's desire
they're England's defenders, they come to all your gigs
and look, it's your house, and it's full of twigs

well hey, is that your bicycle? so where are its wheels
it turns out that your bank account is full of eels
I don't believe that's Santa Claus, dancing a jig
on top of your house
which is full of twigs

like a boiled potato that somebody sat on
that's gone seventeen rounds with a young Ricky Hatton
the dystopian nightmares of Adolphus Spriggs
take place in your house, which is full of twigs

credits

from Songs of Idiocy & Expedience, released November 27, 2020

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Rick Foot England, UK

Double bassist and singer-songwriter.

"Splendid and off-the-wall" Festivals For All

"A freak" Jersey Evening Post

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