Label : Nettwerk Records Release Date : June 23, 2009 Composer : Alex Murdoch
1 All My Days - Alexi Murdoch 2 Blue Mind - Alexi Murdoch 3 What Is Life - George Harrison 4 Song For You - Alexi Murdoch 5 Golden Brown - The Stranglers 6 Towards The Sun - Alexi Murdoch 7 Meet Me In The Morning - Bob Dylan 8 Breathe - Alexi Murdoch 9 Wait - Alexi Murdoch 10 The Ragged Sea - Alexi Murdoch 11 Oh! Sweet Nuthin’ - The Velvet Underground 12 Orange Sky - Alexi Murdoch 13 Crinan Wood - Alexi Murdoch
Mm ba ba de Um bum ba de Um bu bu bum da de Pressure pushing down on me Pressing down on you no man ask for Under pressure - that burns a building down Splits a family in two Puts people on streets Um ba ba be Um ba ba be De day da Ee day da - that’s o.k. It’s the terror of knowing What this world is about Watching some good friends Screaming ‘Let me out’ Pray tomorrow - gets me higher Pressure on people - people on streets Day day de mm hm Da da da ba ba O.k. Chippin’ around - kick my brains around the floor These are the days it never rains but it pours Ee do ba be Ee da ba ba ba Um bo bo Be lap People on streets - ee da de da de People on streets - ee da de da de da de da It’s the terror of knowing What this world is about Watching some good friends Screaming ‘Let me out’ Pray tomorrow - gets me higher high high Pressure on people - people on streets Turned away from it all like a blind man Sat on a fence but it don’t work Keep coming up with love but it’s so slashed and torn Why - why - why ? Love love love love love Insanity laughs under pressure we’re cracking Can’t we give ourselves one more chance Why can’t we give love that one more chance Why can’t we give love give love give love give love give love give love give love give love give love ‘Cause love’s such an old fashioned word And love dares you to care for The people on the edge of the light And love dares you to change our way of Caring about ourselves This is our last dance This is our last dance This is ourselves Under pressure Under pressure Pressure
Darkness at the break of noon Shadows even the silver spoon The handmade blade, the child’s balloon Eclipses both the sun and moon To understand you know too soon There is no sense in trying.
Pointed threats, they bluff with scorn Suicide remarks are torn From the fool’s gold mouthpiece The hollow horn plays wasted words Proves to warn That he not busy being born Is busy dying.
Temptation’s page flies out the door You follow, find yourself at war Watch waterfalls of pity roar You feel to moan but unlike before You discover That you’d just be One more person crying.
So don’t fear if you hear A foreign sound to your ear It’s alright, ma, I’m only sighing.
As some warn victory, some downfall Private reasons great or small Can be seen in the eyes of those that call To make all that should be killed to crawl While others say don’t hate nothing at all Except hatred.
Disillusioned words like bullets bark As human gods aim for their mark Made everything from toy guns that spark To flesh-colored christs that glow in the dark It’s easy to see without looking too far That not much Is really sacred.
While preachers preach of evil fates Teachers teach that knowledge waits Can lead to hundred-dollar plates Goodness hides behind it’s gates But even the president of the united states Sometimes must have To stand naked.
An’ though the rules of the road have been lodged It’s only people’s games that you got to dodge And it’s alright, ma, I can make it.
Advertising signs that con you Into thinking you’re the one That can do what’s never been done That can win what’s never been won Meantime life outside goes on All around you.
You lose yourself, you reappear You suddenly find you got nothing to fear Alone you stand with nobody near When a trembling distant voice, unclear Startles your sleeping ears to hear That somebody thinks They really found you.
A question in your nerves is lit Yet you know there is no answer fit to satisfy Insure you not to quit To keep it in your mind and not fergit That it is not he or she or them or it That you belong to.
Although the masters make the rules For the wise men and the fools I got nothing, ma, to live up to.
For them that must obey authority That they do not respect in any degree Who despise their jobs, their destinies Speak jealously of them that are free Cultivate their flowers to be Nothing more than something They invest in.
While some on principles baptized To strict party platform ties Social clubs in drag disguise Outsiders they can freely criticize Tell nothing except who to idolize And then say God bless him.
While one who sings with his tongue on fire Gargles in the rat race choir Bent out of shape from society’s pliers Cares not to come up any higher But rather get you down in the hole That he’s in.
But I mean no harm nor put fault On anyone that lives in a vault But it’s alright, ma, if I can’t please him.
Old lady judges watch people in pairs Limited in sex, they dare To push fake morals, insult and stare While money doesn’t talk, it swears Obscenity, who really cares propaganda, all is phony.
While them that defend what they cannot see With a killer’s pride, security It blows the minds most bitterly For them that think death’s honesty Won’t fall upon them naturally Life sometimes Must get lonely.
My eyes collide head-on with stuffed graveyards False gods, I scuff At pettiness which plays so rough Walk upside-down inside handcuffs Kick my legs to crash it off Say okay, I have had enough What else can you show me?
And if my thought-dreams could be seen They’d probably put my head in a guillotine But it’s alright, ma, it’s life, and life only.
Happiness is good for the body, but it is grief which develops the strengths of the mind.
More: “These griefs put us through a form of mental gymnastics which we would have avoided in happier times…It is perhaps only normal if we remain ignorant when things are blissful. When a car is working well, what incentive is there to learn of its complex internal functioning? When a beloved pledges loyalty, why should we dwell on the dynamics of human treachery? What could encourage us to investigate the humiliation of social life when all we encounter is respect? Only when plunged into grief do we have the Proustian incentive to confront difficult truths, as we wail under the bedclothes, like branches in the autumn wind.” - pg 68 How Proust Can Change Your Life