NOPE UNINTENDED

by Doug Murphy + Paul Hamilton

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Three songs about, respectively, dying in the present, living in the past and dreaming for the future.

credits

released June 4, 2016

Made by Doug Murphy + Paul Hamilton.

Audio mastered by Si Beex.
Sleeve photography by Jason Gollop.
Sleeve ironing by Dave Pope.

'IVY' video star: Karen Morden.
‘IVY’ video here - vimeo.com/168905116

‘IVY’ and ‘Bluebell Wood’ feature the Cigartar, a custom-built three-string guitar built with a cigar-box body by Brian Wallace. If you fancy a piece of playable guit-art, contact Brian via www.facebook.com/groups/91108469693

© Smoking Ant Records, 2016.

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Track Name: IVY
IVY

Invite to attend the pitiful ritual
I don’t wanna
I don’t wanna
Rubber-necking whiners, cheese and vitriol
I’m not gonna
I’m not gonna

“But what if everyone felt that way?”
“Then I’d be a fool to feel any other way”
I don’t wanna
I don’t wanna

Backs slapped, hands clapped, eyes on the prize
In whose honour?
In whose honour?
Jobs slashed, mobs flashed, smiling through the lies
I don’t wanna
I don’t wanna

When doing the unexpected is expected of you
There’s no way out way out enough that you can do
And I don’t wanna
I don’t wanna

When doing the unexpected is expected of you
There’s no way out way out enough that you can do
“But what if everyone felt that way?”
“Then I’d be a fool to feel any other way”
I don’t wanna
I don’t wanna
Track Name: Bluebell Wood
BLUEBELL WOOD

Do they still call this Bluebell Wood
Where ne'er-do-wells did no good?
Hit by lit darts fired by the sun
Travelling like javelins shot from God’s gun

Where dens, hide-outs and secret magic palaces
Backed on to the fenced, immense garden of the Harrises

Life was a song and laughter its tune
The world was a pudding, I was a spoon
It seemed bigger in my wild childhood
Do they still call this Bluebell Wood?

Do they still call this Shady Glade
Where bogeymen would stalk and we'd be afraid?
Camp fire cramped, frying pan and kettle
Bangers and beans, dock leaves and nettles

Talk of Chinese burns, Scotch mist, what a French kiss is
As a damp burning branch crackles and hisses

Barry boasts he drank a Martini
Then was sick on his dad's Lamborghini
Barry? Or was it Gary? Memories fade
Do they still call this Shady Glade?

Do they still call this Bluebell Wood?
Did we jam roly-poly home for roast dins and pud?
We would meet when shadows were short
Hold up the jars of prisoners we'd caught

Tadpoles, earwigs, daddy longlegs, worms
Capture a lizard, you’re a wizard of the firm

This was back when a box had three sides
And pennies got a multitude of chews and rides
And two years in the Army would do you good
Do they still call this Bluebell Wood?
Track Name: Fly My Plane
FLY MY PLANE

She’s a down ginger knocker
Knickerbocker, darny socker
With a wind-up ticky-tocker
Off her rocker with a roll.
She’s a 9s to the make-up
Hobby take-up, hubby break up
With a milk of glassy shake-up
Garden rake up wake a mole.

There’ll be fun all down the tunnel to my brain
I’d love to let you get to fly my plane
Fly my plane.

She’s a grass smoke free borny
Flaky corny, curvy scrawny
With an oldie goldie horny
Owly tawny mousey clutch.
She’s no kitschy cataloguer
Dead nag flogger, manay hogger
Who’s a common clap ’em jogger
Into grogger out of touch.

There’ll be fun all down the tunnel to my brain
I’d love to let you get to fly my plane
Fly my plane, baby!

She’s a down ginger knocker
Knickerbocker, darny soccer
With a wind-up ticky-tocker
Off her rocker with a roll.
She’s a 9s to the make-up
Hobby take-up, hubby break up
With a milk of glassy shake-up
Garden rake up wake a mole.

There’ll be fun all down the tunnel to my brain
I’d love to let you get to fly my plane
Fly my plane
I’d love to let you get to fly my plane
Fly my plane
I’d love to let you get to fly my plane
Everybody!
I’d love to let you get to fly my plane
NAHHHHHH!