Little Italy Lyrics

Little Italy was born on August 2nd 2013 in a small room in Kings Heath Birmingham. Me and Mickey had nearly come to the end of an unsuccessful song writing session when I started playing a chord progression he really didn’t like. The rhythm was fairly weird but rather than have an argument about it he pressed record.

We added some strange vocals and a repetitive guitar loop and that was that for a while: it just lay dormant inside a computer until about two months ago, when we chiseled and tapped our way to a finished three minutes.

The lyrics for this song are quite percussive – they sound active and that helps the verses to rasp along. Also, because of the amount of syllables in each verse I could afford to be a little more poetic without having to get to the point within four words – it became really enjoyable to write and I finished the words in a morning.

I suppose the meaning of the song is open to interpretation, but I definitely think that the older I get and the greater responsibility I find, more is the need to find your own moral code to live by. One that isn’t too stringent, is fairly simple and allows you to just focus on enjoying the moment and letting others be, before it all becomes too late… Dictatorial books can’t really be the way forward…

Haha. Maybe it’s because I’m writing all this after a 17 hour day which has featured a cold bath at 5am, standing in a freezing tunnels, bad fish and chips, and one upset baby…

Anyway, here are the lyrics….

Left wing, savoir faire
Ageing flicks of my thin brown hair
Like an elegy, soaking me
Drenched in the language of social mobility
But I don’t seem to mind,
The gruesome link between
people and time
It’s an enemy telling me
The wheels of profit
Are circling in the opposite
Life don’t animate
Just creeps up on you slowly.
Surely holy water
flows as normal water does?
In Little Italy I re-adhere.

Sojourn in my guilt
Wrestle words as the apostrophes wilt
Let the elegiac, question why
Accidents happen or the well will dry
So some come kill me quick
Tie me down
to an anodyne drip
To the will of god
and the people with sticks
For filled with the shrill
They show much better that
Life don’t animate
Just creeps up on you
slowly, surely
Holy water
flows like normal water does
In little Italy I re-adhere.

When the steeple cries
There’s a martyr
For every pause
When a dozen die
It’s a starter for ten
To the men
Who proselytize that
a life isn’t owned but atoned
they solidify and in time become
blackened and martyred.

EP1

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