Testo Empty pledges Yard Act

Empty pledges

Never assume, it makes an arse of you and you alone
And if you're right?
You're not a Knight to be anointed
Your bogus podium remains the same when I'm exposed
Behold the dickhead with their big bag full of bonus points

I went to town to sand down the edges
I wore a suit and scaled the tallest building
Hanging off the slightest ledges
My fingers gripped tight from a great height
As I pressed my face against the glass
And dialed up the bass in both of my front wedges

I saw the cars below and read aloud their custom regs
They cut relentless crescents in the August snow
Making U-turn after U-turn on their empty pledges
Look at 'em all burnt out with nowhere left to go

An astra, ten cans trailing
Decimated by spray paint red
The wedding present
Swerved the dent in the road where my head went when I fell
I wonder if they know who David Gedge is
And how long I've left with all these thoughts
Before I reach the gates of

Hello, how you doing?
I'm doing very well
I've done absolutely nothing since I last saw you four years ago
Ah, how you doing, yeah, I'm still chipping away
But I've got absolutely nothing
Absolutely nothing new to say

The city bleeds but I'm not from here
I retain the right to roam
I built a life rife with promise and squandered solace in monochrome
The monitors popped and my ears bled
But I preserved with a public facing air of nonchalance
The empty promise came full circle more than once
Oh behave
I get between the sheets and pray it's just a dream I'm only sleeping in my

Gravy with the chips, you lot are always lugging round
On your shoulders like the world has never told you how you sound
Yeah, every time I hear you moaning
If I only had a pound
I could've sold the house for nowt and built a solid tungsten bunker underground

I gave the drink up except for one shot of sake in Kyoto
A mescal in Mexico
A limoncello in Zucco
Still smoke loads though
Gotta look good in all these photos
Yeah I worry about all the same things you do as far as hope goes so
Put me in your magazine or I might just start my own and go full Howard Devoto
How hard is devotion?
How hard is putting on a show?
How deep is the ocean really?
Hello you, yes you
Do you feel like an impostor for every new level you ascend to too?
Did you pull the ladder up behind you 'cause all your friends became resentful?
No one has a clue
Do you have to bluff as much as I do?

Table service in fancy bars
Another hoop they make you jump through
What's wrong with just pushing in and shouting, excuse me love, dead loud
What's wrong with doubting yourself?
What's wrong with doubting yourself?
What's wrong with being proud?
What's wrong with being proud?

I can account for my whereabouts if you just check back on the camera
I don't wanna know how the magic works
It's par for the course to be cursed by the scourge of drinking straight from the source
What’s wrong with Leeds?
Come on, what were you thinking?
What's wrong with anywhere really
Of course London's more fun
If you like slumming it with lots of money
Cops bust your once trusted source
On the Conspiracy course
Crop circles can't cut the mustard
Groveling in the dirt, crying for your mum, stop
Just divorce yourself from all the noise and scrape the scum off the top

Young upstart, upskirting the rung above
Everybody's got their knickers in a twist up there too
And there's still no love to be found
Well maybe I'm looking dumb, done looking or just plain out of luck
'Cause when you're this self-obsessed, it's no wonder no one up on high gives a fuck
By now you're either with us or you're not
So you can sit down shut up and listen
Or switch this shit off