The book of my life may be second hand
But you may still find a few petals
Pressed between its pages.
I’ll give you all the ellipses and ampersands
If you just save your etceteras for me.
I knew you were crying in the next room
But I feigned a deafness
To the patter of those tears.
I tried to find inspiration in a vacuum
But I lacked the provision of years.
Our lives were elsewhere and we knew it,
So with a sundial for a compass
We turned away from the light.
But between opening that door
And walking through it
The roads all receded from sight.
And I know
I’m not all that you wanted
But I’ll be all that you need
For the day, the night
And everything in between.
I will never feel easy in this skin
So I will only accept happiness
When there is nothing left to long for.
I’ve no time for the times we are living in,
They are just a tourniquet
For glory days gone before.
I hear regrets are always the last to leave
As we move further away
From the memories that define us.
You can take hope
And you can take heaven,
But not simultaneously.
Our footprints don’t remain long behind us.
I’m not all that you wanted
But I’ll be all that you need
For the day, the night
And everything in between.
You said you’d rather see the devil in its true form
Than embodied in the deeds of men and boys.
Don’t wish these worries dead,
Prefer them unborn;
This isn’t silence,
We’re just waiting for noise.
I’m not all that you wanted
But I’ll be all that you need
For the day, the night
And everything in between.
Yes the book of my life is second hand
But what Fate annotates can never be erased.
How long will I stay?
As long as I can stand.
Always, always, always.
I’m not all that you wanted
But I’ll be all that you need
For the day, the night
And everything in between.
This is my favourite song on the album. In fact, it’s my favourite of all my songs.
I know, I know, I’m not allowed to have favourites. But this is one of the few things I have written that isn’t filtered through any kind of protective cynicism.
I hardly ever write in big round major keys. I much prefer sevenths and minors. This is the exception that proves the rule. It’s in C major; everything that precedes it on the album is minor. Yet I think this is probably the saddest track of the whole collection. Sad yet hopeful.
I’m not sure how far to go into the context of this song’s composition, as it’s more personal than most of the stuff I’ve come up with. Like Mother, it was written pretty much in one sitting. The difference here is that the “sitting” took place in Manchester Royal Infirmary at the bedside of someone very important to me. The two of us spent eleven days there (the nurses were kind enough to let me into the ward outside of visiting hours). I wrote this while she slept.
It is a love song that has roots in a difficult moment. It does not speak of desire or dreams. This is a known love, a love that has been scrutinised from every angle. It has been pushed and pulled around by every kind of weather.
A lot of people think I dislike love songs. I don’t. I just dislike the bad ones. Empty sentimentality grates on me. I think love can cause as many problems as it solves. I don’t share the view that it is some universally restorative salve – certainly not the sugary processed version that’s been spewed out of most radio stations almost uninterrupted for the last half century. I don’t believe love is a destination and I don’t believe in happily-ever-afters. I think people can grow out of their affections as easily and inevitably as hermit crabs grow out of their shells.
I do, however, believe in moments. I believe they have an inarguable immortality. I believe moments can be trusted to remain in a state of fixed impermanence, to be sworn on, to be worshipped. I believe in the promises that lovers make to each other – and I believe these promises remain preserved as beautiful artefacts long after they are broken.
Promises stay young while the Promisers grow old.
