2025

There’s a new kind of freedom on Friday Street,in voodoo tweetin’ mode to the folk we meet.There’s a four-letter word that’s out of control,there’s love on the lips of every boy and girl. All the way to the Broomielaw,we’re gonna take our dance party.In coats of many colours, karma is

We’re holding the fortAgainst a dark waveWe’re no heroeslookin to be praisedOnly 7Strange names in the wind We’re guiding this shipThrough the dark wavesAnd we’re not heroesWe won’t be savedOnly 7Lost pebbles in the Brine We got dreamsTo believe inWe got dreamsTo believe in We’re guiding this craftThrough the dark

Where are you going, Lucy my love?The full moon hides the sun.We have a daughter, and soon we’ll have a son —and we have but the right to one. She has taken her grandfather’s coatto hide from prying eyes,a goodnight kiss to her two loved ones,then the night train to

I prefer to do than listen.I’m a hooligan windmill — not storm force,but I sway big trees. So just gimme a light and a can of strong brew,and I’ll spark up a hoolie… spark up a hoolie anew!!C’mon — hah!! Hoolie ama hoolie, hoolie ama hoolie, hoolie ama hoolie man.Hoolie

Candles lit up Tannenbaum.Stille Nacht called up the dawn.The khaki army felt rebornon a frozen morn in ’14. When boys walked out into No Man’s Land,exchanging smokes and offering their hands.Songs were sang on the blasted landon that charmed day in ’14. And many’s a tale’s been woven and spun,how

Where do we come from? Where do we go?Ah, did you grow up with tears?Ah, did you grow up with blows? There’s a field and a farm,a boy and a mother,a water tank and a windmill,a little sister and a brother. Hey, don’t you know? It’s a family show. In