Album: Worhead (2017)

The Man Who Wrote Thriller

Picture the instant
When it dawns in your mind
That the things that you wanted
Were never so kind
How will you react
To this seminal moment?
To be down like a soldier
Left to pick all the fights

So many nights
When I'm wound up so tight
I just cling to the thoughts
That the man who wrote thriller
Lives in Scarborough
With his dog
Getting on with his life
There's hope in my bones
(My emotions will not tire)
While the man who wrote thriller
Lives in Scarborough

Those several moments
That threaten to
Define your life completely
They devour like chips
From a cheap foam cup

On a beach in Whitby
If I ever get majestical
And grow perfunctory eyes
Just wind in my neck
And hope that I will be wise

So many nights
When I'm wound up so tight
I just cling to the thoughts
That the man who wrote thriller
Lives in Scarborough
With his dog
Getting on with his life
There's hope in my bones
(My emotions will not tire)
While the man who wrote thriller
Lives in Scarborough
While the man who wrote thriller
Lives in Scarborough
While the man who wrote thriller
Lives in Scarborough

So many nights
When I'm wound up so tight
I just cling to the thoughts
That the man who wrote thriller
Lives in Scarborough
With his dog
Getting on with his life
There's hope in my bones
(My emotions will not tire)
While the man who wrote thriller
Lives in Scarborough
While the man who wrote thriller
Lives in Scarborough
While the man who wrote thriller
Lives in Scarborough

(So daft that I nearly reacted to
The people with the manifold action
Who don't see life as a body of water
So please bless me with a son or a daughter)