A very dear friend introduced this to me a little while ago. It suited where she was in her life at time; lonely in a giant metropolis.
It’s become very dear to me to. I can’t really tell you why to be honest. There’s an implied narrative in the lyrics that’s really up to the individual listener to fill in.
I thought I’d share it here in any case…
Now
I’m wakin’ at the crack of dawn
to send a little money home
from here to the moon
is risin’ like a discotheque
and now my bags are down and packed for traveling
Lookin’ at happiness
keepin’ my flavor fresh
nobody knows I guess
how far I’ll go, I know
so I’m leavin’ at Six O’ Clock
meet in a parkin’ lot
Harriet Hendershot
sunglasses on, she waits by this
Glass and concrete and stone
It is just a house, not a home.
Skin, that covers me from head to toe
except a couple tiny holes and openings
Where, the city’s blowin’ in and out
this is what it’s all about, delightfully
Everything’s possible
when you’re an animal
not inconceivable
How things can change, I know
So I’m puttin’ on aftershave
nothin’ is out of place
gonna be on my way
Try to pretend, it’s not only
Glass and concrete and stone
That it’s just, not a home.
And its glass and concrete and stone
It is just a house, not a home
And my head is fifty feet high
Let my body and soul be my guide
allo matey!
i had no idea you liked the song so much. excellent! funny how things hit a chord at times eh?
hope alls good with you pair-exciting times! not long now wohooo! keep in touch xx
Hey Rose, I didn’t realise you were a reader here!
I was in a pretty good place in life when you mentioned the song to me. So I think the chord it’s striking is more a memory of time spent on cold mornings under moonlight, passing through the eerily beautiful Canary Wharf on too-long commutes. Stranger in a town that’s a bit too big to easily allow humans to exist peacefully in it.