Get all 15 Jess Silk releases available on Bandcamp and save 30%.
Includes unlimited streaming via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality downloads of Blitz Spirit (Acoustic Demos), Live At Katie Fitzgerald's, Blitz Spirit, Don't Tell Me What To Sing About/A Good Pair Of Boots-Double Live EP, Random Ramblings, Break the Bottle (Alternative Version), There's A Bar At the End of the World, Stars & Stripes, and 7 more.
1. |
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It seems like everywhere I turn there’s another who won’t learn
From past mistakes they’ve made
It seems like everywhere I go there’s another one who knows
Which path I should now take
And they say, “It’s best for everyone if you stop writing protest songs
‘Cause there is not one thing you’ll ever change”
And they say, “Learn from your history; this is how life is for you and me
I promise you it’s always been that way”
Oh but I can’t believe that this is all there is for you and me
They say life’s not fair, but it’s easier for those who just don’t care
Please stop the world ‘cause I want to get off
And coping with it’s taking all the words that I have got
Please stop the world ‘cause you’re dragging me down
And listen when I ask politely
Don’t tell me what to sing about
It seems like every other day there’s a promise that they break
And we can’t do a thing
They seem to think that we’ve been beat and when we’re marching down the street
Pretend we don’t exist
And they say, “I don’t like politics to interfere with my music”
Well me, I don’t like sugar in my tea
So now I play and write and sing and yeah, I hope that I might change something
But in the end I write these songs for me
Because I can;t escape all the lies and empty promises they make
When I can’t see the light the only thing that helps me is to write about it
Please stop the world ‘cause I want to get off
And coping with it’s taking all the words that I have got
Please stop the world ‘cause you’re dragging me down
And listen when I ask politely
Don’t tell me what to sing about
Well, I’ve been doing this since I was a kid
When I found the only thing that helps me is to sing
Much better than breaking down oh
To get it written down upon the page
All the happiness, the fear and the rage
Makes one less thing to think about
Please stop the world ‘cause I want to get off
And coping with it’s taking all the words that I have got
Please stop the world ‘cause you’re dragging me down
And listen when I ask politely
Don’t tell me what to sing
Please stop the world ‘cause I want to get off
And coping with it’s taking all the words that I have got
Please stop the world ‘cause you’re dragging me down
And listen when I ask politely
Don’t tell me what to sing about
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2. |
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If home is where the heart is then my home moves ‘round a lot
From the cities to the campfires to the little town where I grew up
No matter where I travel you’re open arms will be enough
If home is where the heart is it’s with the people that I love
Another day another train
Still got the urge to run away
To all the places on my list and all the people that I miss
Soon it’ll be time to go again
Another night another town
I’m still not ready to slow down
All these stations look the same though the names and the faces change
But there are still friends there in the crowd
If home is where the heart is then my home moves ‘round a lot
From the cities to the campfires to the little town where I grew up
No matter where I travel you’re open arms will be enough
If home is where the heart is it’s with the people that I love
Another bar another drink
A shipwrecked boat on which to sink
But down together we will go and we’ll always have a hand to hold
Even standing at the brink
Another field another fire
Raise a glass around the pyre
To absent friends that couldn’t stay but never leave us all the same
And sing the chorus with the choir
If home is where the heart is then my home moves ‘round a lot
From the cities to the campfires to the little town where I grew up
No matter where I travel you’re open arms will be enough
If home is where the heart is it’s with the people that I love
And I rarely stop to notice
Just how lucky I am
I get to travel to each corner of this country
Singing songs guitar in hand
And I’ve got miles and miles behind me
And I’ve got many more to go
And I’m so grateful every time I get to meet up
With the friends that I’ve come to know
Well, If home is where the heart is then my home moves ‘round a lot
From the cities to the campfires to the little town where I grew up
No matter where I travel you’re open arms will always be enough
If home is where the heart is then my home moves ‘round a lot
From the cities to the campfires to the little town where I grew up
No matter where I travel you’re open arms will be enough
If home is where the heart is it’s with the people that I love
If home is where the heart is it’s with the people that I love
Yeah, If home is where the heart is it’s with the people that I love
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3. |
Is This Poetry?
02:47
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When I was younger I would always ask the questions:
“Is this okay?” or, “Does this sound right to you?”
But now I’ve realised that it doesn’t really matter
After all, it’s me who’s playing this, it’s what I always do
But now I’ve hit a question in everything that I’ve found
What would this all become if I wrote it all down?
I ask you
Is this poetry?
These words I sing have come to me
through what I’ve done and what I’ve seen
and who I want to be
Yeah, is this poetry?
Because I don’t know what that means
It seems I can’t write anything
except for what I see
Well, is this poetry?
Nowadays it seems the lyrics just don’t matter to them
It’s all just record deals and who judges like the best
But I need something that articulates a message to me
something that makes me feel the beating in my chest
Well I’ve found that there’s still something that really hits me in my heart
It’s when someone sings their own words to the sound of their battered old guitar
I ask you
Is this poetry?
These words I sing have come to me
through what I’ve done and what I’ve seen
and who I want to be
Yeah, is this poetry?
Because I don’t know what that means
It seems I can’t write anything
except for what I see
Well, is this poetry?
Poets of old well they put their words to music
It brought us all together and we danced
Now all that’s left is computer effects
They just don't give the words a chance
Well is this what’s become or poetry? If it is I want no part
And there may not be crowds in front of me but I still sing this from my heart
Well I ask you
Is this poetry?
These words I sing have come to me
through what I’ve done and what I’ve seen
and who I want to be
Yeah, is this poetry?
Because they don’t know what that means
To some this won’t mean anything
But it means something to me
Well, is this poetry?
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4. |
Break the Bottle
03:53
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Well, he's lingered here too long heard another song
start without a moment’s delay
The picture on the screen’s hardly what it seems
Just another game for him to play
And the coffee that’s running through his veins
well, it keeps him awake
Back when he was young his dad owned a gun
that was always hanging on the wall
He’d get into fights, nowhere left to hide
Bloody face but still standing tall
Now for thirty-odd years he's been
neatly avoiding the call
to his father’s old shop with the
Winchester gun on the wall
Now his basement smells like bourbon and a half finished boat
and his friends can’t get to seeing how it’ll ever float
‘cause they can’t break the bottle
No they can’t break the bottle
There’s a photograph he keeps sitting in a drawer
He’d give anything to be there now; anything at all
‘Cause it can’t be forgotten
No they can’t be forgotten
When he turned eighteen he joined the marines
Caught a train and left it all behind
He got married to a girl, she became his world;
stayed at home when he went off to fight
And for a while he was content
with his life
Now he’s up before the sun carrying a gun
he once almost turned on himself
He can’t leave it in the past; happened much too fast
Never got to say his farewells
Now when he drinks he drinks from
jars that held nails on the shelf
As he works on his own and he
builds an escape for himself
Now his basement smells like bourbon and a half finished boat
and his friends can’t get to seeing how it’ll ever float
‘cause they can’t break the bottle
No they can’t break the bottle
There’s a photo of his family sitting in a drawer
He’d give anything to be there now; anything at all
‘Cause they can’t be forgotten
No they can’t be forgotten
On the day his daughter was born he was half the world away
And when someone took a shot, crashed their car well he wished that he had stayed
And on the day of their funeral his dad brought a date
Never stopped to ask him if he was okay
Well, he wasn't that day
He got married three more times and none of his wives
stayed long enough to call his house a home
Now he takes the sofa when he sleeps, just can’t face the dreams
When he’s forced to wake in bed alone
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5. |
Stranger On the Tube
03:36
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I met a stranger on the tube today
Saw all the people as they turned their heads away
Kept my mouth shut; didn't know what I should say
But I doubt it would've mattered anyway
She was dressed up in red, white and blue
A bag on her back that she kept fumbling through
It was full of badges, flags and the posters that she drew
And I honestly could not think what to do
The silence in the dark there
Stalled the beating of my heart
She'd come to brag
If they wave that flag
They shall not pass
She wore proudly a cap on her head
That she kept removing to admire what it said
A bloody red colour and stitched in silver thread
The words she lives by: Let's Make Britain Great Again
She had a UKIP badge in her lapel
A "Free Tommy!" placard and a flag to match as well
A racist rhetoric in merchandise to sell
Yeah, she'll fight to spring her prophet from his cell
A stranger on a train
Is spreading hatred once again
Please mind the gap
If they wave that flag
They shall not pass
I asked her quietly what she believed
She said, "We march today to set our country free
They're coming over hear to steal from you and me
Yeah, we need to get this filth off of our streets"
I looked around the people on the train
The different colours, creeds and classes, all afraid
Just to speak out against one stranger spreading hate
On the doorstep of the home that they have made
Stuck there underground
And all too frightened to speak out
To voice the facts
If they wave that flag
They shall not pass
She got off at Westminster to join the crowds
The ranks assembled made their way through London town
Marched to Trafalgar Square with Nelson looking down
On the mass of Union flags upon the ground
Well, they wear my flag but they don't speak for me
I will not buy into their ideology
'Cause when the fascists come to set my country free
Well, that is not a sight that I am proud to see
So stand and raise your fist
Just like in nineteen thirty six
We will fight back
If they wave that flag
We'll voice the facts
If they wave that flag
Please mind the gap
If they wave that flag
They shall not pass
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6. |
A Good Pair of Boots
03:34
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Stumbling three miles home from Stourbridge again
I've spent the whole night getting drunk, singing songs with my friends
The sun's a few minutes from waking
My mind and my body are aching
I am weak, I need sleep but even so I don't want it to end
Now I can't count the times that I've walked home along this path
By the light of the stars, my guitar safe upon my back
And these boots they have treated me well
They'd walk through the fires of Hell
March me straight through the gates but I'll wait a bit longer for that
And it's taken me too long to see
That this is all I need
My guitar, some dear friends
And a good pair of boots on my feet
Now I always take with me much more than I actually need
And until I let go, well I know I can never be free
I'm just always so scared of the going
Of the wandering around and not knowing
Where I am, without a plan and then what's out there waiting for me
And it's taken me too long to see
That this is all I need
My guitar, some dear friends
And a good pair of boots on my feet
And those nights are the best when we sit and pass round the guitar
We've been in here since doors but we've got one more song in our hearts
And though most of the words we've forgot
We'll still try and give it a shot
Then we'll gather our money and buy one last drink form the bar
And it's taken me too long to see
That this is all I need
My guitar, some dear friends
And a good pair of boots on my feet
I'm so glad that I finally see
That this is all I need
My guitar, some dear friends
And a good pair of boots on my feet
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Jess Silk Dudley, UK
Jess Silk is a guitarist, singer and songwriter from the Black Country. Her shouty but melodic brand of folk/punk music often has her being likened to a female Frank Turner or Billy Bragg, and it gets people sitting up and listening. Armed only with an increasingly sticker-covered acoustic guitar and a distinctive, gravely voice that many don’t expect, Jess plays to audiences up and down the UK. ... more
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