Download the track from our Bandcamp site
The Filthy Tongues will be playing in Scotland in September. Sign up to your newsletter for the latest info.
No different this year, I lie, bore’s
Blindfold on, my Short
Term Drinker’s Ticket
Nestling primed beside the onion
Placed for grown-up friends
And time in my top pocket. Behold your long
Lost samurai caught rolling out of Robbie’s
Bar in older skates and age’s earplugs: neutered,
Asperitic, hair-shirt humour worn
Like armour, half-forgotten exile’s aura
Lit with hopeful sparks of confidence,
Conniving to convince myself
That all is as it once was and will be.
Ahoy Leith Walk, you leery road, I came
Here thirty years ago and now I’ve strayed,
Decades away. O Scotland, wearing weary
Of these strangers teasing me
How tired I look, quick-irked
Like tetchy ex-pat drunks as stout Iona
Street Big Issue peddlers ask me if it kills me
Being always this annoyed. Unfriendly
Taxis pass aloof like wronged ex-wives:
I trundle back to Trinity as Lucifer castrated.
Newtown’s halo’s crackling fireworks, sharp September
Sky outside my borrowed windows, both sides fickly dry,
Since I chucked in the sauce, and till it pours:
I’m near to where I need to be and wish to be.
Old tomcat on the guttering across from me
Shoots stares at me, blinks evilly: he knows
I am a gaijin, foreign, unconvincing, new. This
Scottish haar comes creeping down the changing streets
Below me, breaks my sleep as dreams of drinking
Half my life in Lethe to remember
Here and now and me and you will always do.
Vocals & Guitars