Catalogue #480 – Words & Music Copyright © 2008 Mark Hilton

Outside it’s a cyclone, everything is tied down
Holed up in this bar, surrounded by sound
Howling and wailing and gnashing of teeth
And all the believers hold on to belief
And all of the sinners they don’t even budge
They don’t give a rat’s who busted the judge
With a dodgy collection of photos and toys
It’s par for the course, it’s jobs for the boys
The daily procession of claptrap and noise

Emogene, always sittin’ by yourself, you don’t let nobody in
Oh baby, Emogene you don’t even know my name
But when it’s all over I’d love to be alone with you

The barflys and himbos they all look the same
A messy assembly, the damaged and vain
It’s only the years that slow down the train
All that naked ambition poured into a glass
Here’s to manana, let’s bury he past
The young kids these days, pills petrol and grass
Got no bloody manners, got no fucking class
And I can’t get my eyes off the barmaid’s ass


My vision gets blurry, I like it like that
Way too much detail, all the wrinkles and fat
The cigarette girl she keeps comin’ back
The TV is blaring back there in her flat
I’m probably allergic to her pussy cat
I’m pedaling backwards, she’s all smiles
We’re in some episode of Rockford Files
I feel like James Garner, in a cravat
But my car is a shitbox, the tyres are flat
A schooner of wisdom, a shot glass of pride
I’m sellin’ the truth, hey I got nothin’ to hide
Then I’m out on the tiles, and they throw me outside

Emogene, there’s somethin’ about you, it’s all around you
Emogene I don’t even know your name
But when it’s all over I’d love to be alone with you