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South London Doesn't Rain (On Me)

by The Pies

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1.
All Of The Colours In Our Bleary Eyes 04:38
lyrics
All of the colours in our bleary eyes Are reflected in the skies I’m on my bike in London Going down hill, Weaving through the traffic And the people crossing, Listening to my Walkman With my helmet strapped Tight over my headphones And my leather jacket zipped up to the top. In my satchel there’s a bike pump, An inner tube, someone stole my lights And so I don’t think I can make it Down the Old White Bear tonight. After a couple of pints Swaying side-to-side And with the speed at which the buses Take the corners That’s a crazy risk to take, But then again Its a real pain To get the bus at that time From Streatham in the rain (Just like that song Mick Jones wrote ‘Bout getting out of prison I’m going to tread lightly), But it isn’t very likely I’ll be home by midnight. Maybe grab a curry down at Balham By the minicab office, ‘less I fall asleep And wake up down in Morden - I’ve done it once or twice, The walk up Bedford Hill isn’t very nice What with the curb crawlers Cruising past the bushes on the common I think I’m going to cycle home Or if its not a problem Could I kip over at your place? Gotta be up early in the morning Got an interview in Stockwell ‘bout a council flat And then I’ve got an afternoon to kill Maybe we could chill? Maybe we could chill? I've got an afternoon to kill, Maybe we could chill? Maybe we could chill? Maybe we could chill? I've got an afternoon to kill. It doesn't work any more. Unheavenly father I know how to sin. You want me to start I won’t know where to begin. Unheavenly father The thing that you do: Making beautiful monsters Into people like you. A paper cup on a pavement, The stain on the sink, A doll in a gutter, The noise and the stink, The executive lifestyle, The tooth and the claw, The sordid confessions, The festering sore, The fabulous wealth Of the miraculous poor, I’m telling you man: It doesn’t work any more. All of the others with their pristine lives, All of the dullness of our glittering prize, All of the colours of our bleary eyes Are reflected in the skies
2.
'pon Streatham Common 03:17
lyrics
Jason the Collier’s Boy A cur and a knave and a hobble-de-hoy His bench in the woods was the traveller’s joy But his heart was as dead as the wood where they found him Daniel was only a child Lived upside down in the bitter and mild Higher and higher and higher it piled The boy was as frightened and scared as his mummy Mandarin Bob was the cordial host Of The New Chan May Mai and The Ivory Coast He’ll miss you; De Loutherbourg summoned his ghost To London, where nothing on earth can confound him. Christopher Christoper Turpentine weed Took what he wanted and knew that he’d need For the judge and the jury to grovel and plead But his eyes were as cold as the river he’d drown in. Sarah Malaria shivered and stole Something from all of us, body and soul One day she’ll lose all her motor control And Sarah Malaria waits on the street selling poppies So eiderdown and settle round For the newspapers of the world Mummy, Daddy, come to me ‘Cause I’m your little girl Mummy? And Daddy?
3.
Brixton Water Lane 03:34
lyrics
The dog’s in the alley and the sun is in his bed But these comedians and characters Are fucked up in the head; In the corner of a council flat I’m lying in a bed Drinking carrot juice and listening to Louisiana Red. I drop a skull and crossbones And meet you down at the pub with no name On Effra Road near Brixton Water Lane. The chicken shop children with the Blackberry stares Are cowering from the light The screaming dodgem sirens of the Lambeth County Fair Seep like a stain into the cotton of the permadrone night And down among the fish stalls Beneath the roaring of a suburban train And down on Brixton Water Lane I’ve got a plan, I know this man I’ve got a plan, I know this man I’ve got a plan, I know a man I’ve got a plan, I know this man There is no plan, don’t know a man Ain't got a plan, don’t know a man There is no plan, don’t know a man Ain't got a plan, don’t know no man Ain't got a plan, don’t know a man Ain't got a plan, don’t know a man Ain't got a plan. There’s no one stealing satnavs And there’s no one selling crack And there’s no one who’s been paid To stick a knife into your back And there’s summertime in April And there’s beauty in the snow And a silence that exudes from you Wherever you may go, But I never got directions So I’m afraid I must remain On Effra Road near Brixton Water Lane There’s no one stealing satnavs And there’s no one selling crack And there’s no one who’s been paid To stick a knife into your back And there’s summertime in April And there’s beauty in the snow And a silence that exudes from you Wherever you may go, But I never got directions So I’m afraid I must remain Down on Brixton Water Lane
4.
South London Doesn't Rain (On Me) 02:18
lyrics
I’m hanging fish on a fishmas tree South London doesn’t rain (on me) I’m playing poker and I’m betting blind South London messing up my mind I’m drinking bourbon in a cinema I’m eating oysters in an oyster bar I’m a serial offender, I’m an absentee South London doesn’t rain (on me.) ‘Have you paid your rent?’ ‘Well I think I did.’ 'Did you misrepresent?’ ‘Well for a couple of quid.’ ‘Did you have fraudulent intent?’ 'No I wouldn’t say so.’ ‘Was there tacit consent?’ ‘Well I never said no.’ ‘Are you ready to repent?’ ‘No’. I’m hanging fish on a fishmas tree South London doesn’t rain (on me) I’m a serial offender, I’m an absentee South London doesn’t rain (on me). Take me home London Road To the place where I was born Living on the never Living on the never-never.
5.
Lost and Found 05:46
lyrics
The carousel is running down And everything’s on sale: A keyring and a piece of glass, A namebadge and a nail, Some Rizlas and some eyewash And an unemployment card, But nothing for the baby girl, I loved her more than all the world, With oyster-shells and phoney pearls I’ll build another heart. I am calling out to you From on this roundabout; I remember all the words, Forget all of the doubt, Nothing here is unresolved, I’m wronging all the rights And I can eat here every night, Sitting in her candlelight, Until these letters fade from sight, And fade out of my heart. And I’ll be there for you To come on home to I’ll be there for you To come on home, When the walls are cracked The pipes are cold The wallpaper is hanging off the wall, I’ll wait for you to call.
6.
Margaritas Upside Down 03:53
lyrics
So now I guess its my turn To be waiting with the bourbon And the gas fire on my own. At three in the morning, Hoping that you’ll think to call me, If you’re not too drunk to phone. It’s happened many times before. I’d do the same to you. I don’t know where the hell you’ve been, But this estate we’re living in, I can’t sleep if you don’t ring. Its colder than December, We can talk about the weather, Its the big thing in the news. Its easier to stay the night And I know from experience, Its so hard to refuse. Its time for drinking whisky And not for going out of doors, And the sheets are carved from blocks of ice, I can’t get to sleep tonight, I’ll talk to Jim until its light And listen for your key turning in the door. Well now you’ve got me talking I can talk until the morning Now that I’ve begun to flow. I’ll tell you ‘bout the time When me and Jim were in Wisconsin With a tiny, tiny girl. I met her at a party strapped into a dentist chair, Drinking margaritas upside down In a high school graduation gown And a ball cap from a bar downtown; I cut her loose and walked her to the door. She asked me if I’d like to talk to Jose in her room. I went upstairs but I stuck with Jim, You understand that I came with him. The record on the stereo was Peter, Paul and Mary And she turned the lights down low. The bourbon and Jose had gone But she would be obliged if I decided not to go. The birds had started signing And the room was turning blue. She changed into a rugby shirt, Tequila drunk Wisconsin girl, Looking for a bigger world. I’m leaving on a jet plane And I don’t think I’ll be back again. Well I’m not the man to give details of what ensued, But all this story really means Don’t amount to a hill of beans.
7.
Kiss Me (As Though You Really Cared) 02:52
lyrics
Kiss me, as though you really cared And the branches are all bare On the Christmas tree. Victoria Line, heading south from the Victorian grime; And in Brixton there’s a conga line Around a Christmas tree. The angel of the south, when she opened up her wings A thousand feathers fell into the street. Home isn’t where she hoped it would be, She’s wearing it on her feet. Nowhere. No time for living and no open air, So I’ll meet you in Trafalgar Square Around the Christmas tree. The angel of the south shone a light down from the sky And guided then from Streatham in the rain; And taking stuff from Poundland they attacked Coldharbour Lane. There is no time for them, No time or place for them, They’re burning down The Christmas tree.
8.
In Brockwell Park 04:23
lyrics
The colliers and the gypsy bands Where vicar’s oak no longer stands; The beating of the parish bounds: I’ve heard the sounds, I’ve heard the sounds. The felling of the northern wood To make way for this neighbourhood Of money stores and weapon hounds: It all resounds, It all resounds. And though it all a hidden stream Around which we have built a dream Is audible, but never seen Above the ground, The solid ground. In the silence of the falling snow I can hear it running years ago Uninterrupted in its flow, Something profound And underground. In Brockwell Park I fell asleep And woke up where the willows weep, The waters of the Effra keep Me safe and sound, So safe and sound. On Vauxhall Bridge I kissed your face, Where the waters of the Thames embrace South London as a holy place. Its sacred ground, Its sacred ground.
9.
I Shouldn't Wonder 04:04
lyrics
instrumental

about

An album about South London that I wrote and recorded in 2011 and, now having some time on my hands, have just got round to properly mastering and releasing. The Pies are me: the name I go by when doing pop music also opposed to the other stuff.

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released June 23, 2022

Composed, performed and produced by Ross Brown

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Ross Brown London, UK

From London.

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