- Calls the Tune
Well, I saw your face in a photograph
Cried so much, I nearly laughed
You never really had the chance
To question why did you live some to cry some and die?
Who, what and how writes the song, calls the tune
Says what's right and wrong
Writes the song, calls the tune
- Come into the Air
There you are, waiting at the station
Searching frantically the place where you belong
Gave you a map that showed you your direction
A shadow tore it up and told you it was wrong
That way was too long
And danced a little song
Come into the air, cast your body like a care
- D-Days
Put on your face, put on your clothes
Going out dancing, pose, pose
Wind our bodies round and round
Move to the rhythm of the fare rave sounds
These are decadent days
These are decadent ways
These are de-de-decadent days
De-de-decadent days
- If Only
What do you do when they turn on the light?
You guard your heart, so they steal your sight
You reach out in blindness, touch the alone
His icicle fingers chill you to the bone
What do you do when the cat gets ya tongue?
No way to tell it's all going wrong
Mouth out the words on the telephone
- Private War
If I were to tell you - I was leaving, really leaving this time
If I were to say hey, see me walk out of your door
Would you believe me, would you tell me
You still need me
Oh come on - cause this time
I've gone for sure - and there must be more
All we need is the time to breathe and
- Runaway
{Words & Music: Hazel O'Connor}
You hate yourself, so you hate everybody else
People can make you feel small
Small is a size when age just won't rise fast enough
So you wait for the day, to be up get away
Run run as fast as you can
Over and Over and Over the hill far away