Lyrics - Farcebook (page 2)

This Man

Words & Music by Paul D Waghorn

He's wasted, frustrated, his love life’s complicated, 

this man hears voices in his head. 

been run down, since sun down, can't show his face in this town, 

small words of comfort, never said.

I've seen that man with fear in his eyes, 

his plastic smile is a poor disguise, 

he's on his knees and out of luck, 

society doesn’t give a fuck.

He's banging, he's banging, he's banging on the wall, 

He's hanging, he's hanging, I think he’s gonna fall, 

He's singing, he's singing, he sang his song to me, 

I can't reveal this mans, identity.

He's screaming, whilst dreaming, his work is so demeaning, 

this man exists from week to week. 

there's no doubt, he wants out, but no one hears his faint shout, 

he claims the future's looking bleak.  

I've seen that man with fear in his eyes, 

his plastic smile is a poor disguise, 

he's on his knees and out of luck, 

society doesn’t give a fuck. 


And I think he’s at the crossroads of his life, 

‘cos he says he’ll do the girlfriend and the wife, 

with a knife.

He's banging, he's banging, he's banging on the wall, 

He's hanging, he's hanging, I think he’s gonna fall, 

He's singing, he's singing, his song is so off key, 

He’s a bitter, twisted soul with low mentality 

He's banging, he's banging, he's banging on the wall, 

He's hanging, he's hanging, I think he’s gonna fall, 

He's singing, he's singing, is this reality? 

you must have guessed by now, 

This man is me.

The few who heard the original demo all agreed this to be the best song on the CD. I'm not so sure, although I rate it highly. The audio sample at the beginning was taken from one of my favourite TV programs, any ideas?


Words & Music by Paul D Waghorn

War on the terraces, blood on the street, 

West Ham, Millwall, Chelsea, Leeds, 

society says we never learn, 

loyal to our local firm. 

It all kicks off at 3pm 

stand your ground, it’s us or them, 

you may run but cannot hide, 

the smell of fear that burns inside.

Agro, Agro, - Saturday night, 

Agro, Agro, - looking for a fight, 

Agro, Agro, - come and have a go, 

Agro, Agro.

They tried to ground us with a ban, 

fined a hundred pound a man, 

the media thought we’d go away, 

live to fight another day. 

“Grow your hair and smarten up“ 

join a private members club, 

this generation knows no war, 

but we know what we’re fighting for!


Of course, Agro is short for aggrovation, which having 2 g's means the title is misspelt! My smelling has never been too good. Steve's intro on the toms is very tribal. This should appeal to anyone who remembers what it was like to go to a football match in the 70's and 80's.


Words & Music by Paul D Waghorn

The workers say there’s nothing left to strike for, 

‘cos everyone’s content with what they’ve got, 

have ya lost the will to fight? even though we have the right, 

to stand up and be counted in, or not?

‘cos money is the root of every evil, 

the bankers seem to have it all sewn up, 

do you have to beg or steal when you can’t afford a meal? 

there ain’t no sugar in my coffee cup.

Every woman, every man, unite and raise your hand, 

we’re gonna, - Strike! - Strike! - Strike! 

Every colour, faith or creed, there’s a million mouths to feed, 

you wouldn’t give a shit if we went back down the pit, 

until we Strike!

I don’t possess a suit that’s made to measure, 

they say my status far outweighs the need, 

maybe I’m a berk to demand the right to work? 

whilst others like to bathe in wealth and greed.

We’re caught up in this rock n roll recession, 

the system only ever hurts the poor, 

the peoples enemy are the aristocracy, 

and history will repeat for ever more.


With every Conservative government comes the re-emergance of the far left with their "power to the workers" ideology. I'm unsure how this will be received by our audience. It was inspired the Redskins. The sample is by Arthur Scargill who was instrumental in the miners strike of the 80's.

Psycho Maniac

Words & Music by Paul D Waghorn

There’s a night time prowler in your garden,

with a plastic Mac to hide his hard-on,

he‘s seen you naked through the window,

then gets relief from hardcore porno.

Brian is a dreamer, it‘s all fantasy, 

a little misdemeanor, - that‘s him (not me).

He‘s got a day time job in Asda,

and told his closest friend he‘s had ya,

his greasy palm sees lots of action,

tonight you are the main attraction.


Now I’m not sure who’s dumb or dumber,

but he knows your name and he’s got your number,

he claims he’s touched the bed you lie on,

welcome to the world of Brian. 

According to Steve, every set of songs I write, always has at least one which touches on the subject of wanking. Honestly, I'm not obsessed with bashing the bishop!


Words & Music by Paul D Waghorn

£40 to see the Pistols, 

leave it out, are you having a laugh, 

who's the mug in this rock n roll swindle? 

it ain't me 'cos I’m not that daft. 

Things have changed since seventy seven, 

Sid's dead, let him rot in peace, 

no time, for the Pretenders, 

Bob Geldof or the Police.

Nostalgia, Nostalgia, 

I'm not seventeen any more. 

Nostalgia, Nostalgia, 

I don't wanna ticket, 'cos I've been there before.

I was once ambitious but naive, 

making noise with some mates of mine, 

I told myself, - this ain't nostalgia, 

Punk died in '79 

But today it's a different story, 

we've all been sanitised, 

I got my feet up by the fire, 

became the man I once despised.


I knew I was going to upset a lot of people with this song. With the exception of 999 and the UK Subs, I have little respect for any punk band that have "got back together" in recent years. When I was 19, my records were everything. I lived for new releases and news from the music press. Seeing 60 year men playing punk would not have been appealing then, so why should it be now?

Fantastic Tits

Words & Music by Paul D Waghorn

She was born to tease, 

with expertise, 

she has a tender touch, 

and don’t talk too much, 

she’s got the softest lips, 

and fantastic tits.


She’s got long blonde hair, 

and stylish wear, 

I’m hypnotised, 

by those deep blue eyes, 

I can‘t resist, 

fantastic tits.


She’s taken all my money, 

and drove off with my car, 

I told her “it ain’t funny” 

but she laughed !


She’s free to choose, 

I’m born to lose, 

she had her way, 

but I wouldn’t play, 

I’m in a fix, 

fantastic tits.

For one reason or another, this was left off of our first release. True, it was available on "Is This England" but that was only a remixed version of the original demo. We decided to re-record this live favourite for inclusion here. It's still one of our most popular songs.

This is England

Words & Music by Paul D Waghorn

A teenage murderer was sentenced for his crime, 

with good behavior served a quarter of the time, 

his victim never had a life, compared to mine, 

‘cos this is England, this is England.


Bad news in the paper saw inflation on a high, 

the bankers got their bonuses but god knows only why, 

bailed out by the government, obliged to sell a lie. 

‘cos this is England, this is England.


Is cruel Britannia dreaming ? 

wake up, ‘cos England’s screaming, 

no place for justice anymore.


Today I heard a story from a very dodgy source, 

an M.P with his trousers down was covered up, of course, 

photographic evidence but still showed no remorse, 

‘cos this is England, this is England.


Somewhere in a factory on this god forsaken land, 

the workers get a pittance for their bosses global plan, 

production costs are minimal but retails for a grand, 

‘cos this is England, this is England, 

this is England, this is England, 

this is England, this is England.

This was recorded just after the riots of August 2011, perhaps we should have unleashed it then, but we held it back to include it in this collection. Destined to be the final song in our set for the foreseeable future. A classic I'm very proud to have written.

The Devil

Words & Music by Paul D Waghorn

I'm gonna sell my soul to the devil, what would my mother say?

but if it gets me lots of action, it's a very small price to pay, 

an eternity of pleasure, sex, drugs in excess, 

drunken all night parties, how could I not say yes? 

. . . . to the devil.


The devil is a bastard, so never play his game, 

he probably lives near Croydon, and commutes on the train, 

and If you need protection, then he's the man to see, 

the service is appalling, but don't complain to me, 

. . . . see the devil.

Life is free but time ain’t cheap,
And now I’m in too deep.

He has my mobile number, I'm waiting for his call,
I can't escape this nightmare, the writings on the wall,
The judge said “go to prison” with no chance of parole,
my sentence is forever, that's why I sold my soul,
. . . . to the devil.

No way out, go straight to hell.

The Devil has some Rockabilly overtones which may not be appreciated by all of our audience, as we have never tried anything like this before. We will probably never play this live unless requested to do so?

New project being recorded Jan - Feb 2014 entitled "Cover it Up"