This song was originally written by a guy called Peter Gutteridge. He was one of the founders of the "Dunedin Sound" a musical scene in the south of New Zealand in the early 80s. From there it was covered by "The Clean" one of the early bands of that scene (he had originally been a member of in it's early days, writing a couple of their best early songs). The Dunedin sound, and the Clean became popular on american college radio in the mid to late 80s. I guess Yo La Tengo heard that version.
Great version of a great song,
Hammersmith underpass 7pm
Amongst all the drunkards and legions of men
A troubadour playing a song for the boys
Busking a chorus, he silenced the noise
A melody everyone heard
That somehow left people disturbed
Crossing through town as the riots began
The young man retires to an old Bedford van
His mattress is laid like a courtesan’s bed
The angst that he feels running wild in his head
His voice and his heart could be heard
Like a fire to ravage the world
In the song I had written with anger
And words I had spoken them true
But their meaning it barely resembles
The feelings or my point of view
The fire in the furnace is sucked to its height
As the young man became a success overnight
Filling out stadiums, grand concert halls
Whilst strangely around him was torture and war
Blissfully so unaware
That the source of destruction was there
In the song I had written with anger
And words I had spoken them true
But their meaning it barely resembles
The feelings or my point of view
So look to yourself to find your own way
If bitterness climbs inside, it forms tidal waves
Let the last of your lines falter before they’re defined
Let the last of your words be kind
Trying to bring the old man back to life
His body is weak and no longer survives
The source of his anger replaced now with calm
Some might believe he can do us no harm
But trauma will always be heard
As his message devours the world
In the song I had written with anger
And words I had spoken them true
But their meaning it barely resembles
The feelings or my point of view
So look to yourself to find your own way
If bitterness climbs inside, it forms tidal waves
Let the last of your lines falter before they’re defined
Let the last of your words be kind
Let the last of your words be kind
Amongst all the drunkards and legions of men
A troubadour playing a song for the boys
Busking a chorus, he silenced the noise
A melody everyone heard
That somehow left people disturbed
Crossing through town as the riots began
The young man retires to an old Bedford van
His mattress is laid like a courtesan’s bed
The angst that he feels running wild in his head
His voice and his heart could be heard
Like a fire to ravage the world
In the song I had written with anger
And words I had spoken them true
But their meaning it barely resembles
The feelings or my point of view
The fire in the furnace is sucked to its height
As the young man became a success overnight
Filling out stadiums, grand concert halls
Whilst strangely around him was torture and war
Blissfully so unaware
That the source of destruction was there
In the song I had written with anger
And words I had spoken them true
But their meaning it barely resembles
The feelings or my point of view
So look to yourself to find your own way
If bitterness climbs inside, it forms tidal waves
Let the last of your lines falter before they’re defined
Let the last of your words be kind
Trying to bring the old man back to life
His body is weak and no longer survives
The source of his anger replaced now with calm
Some might believe he can do us no harm
But trauma will always be heard
As his message devours the world
In the song I had written with anger
And words I had spoken them true
But their meaning it barely resembles
The feelings or my point of view
So look to yourself to find your own way
If bitterness climbs inside, it forms tidal waves
Let the last of your lines falter before they’re defined
Let the last of your words be kind
Let the last of your words be kind
Lyrics submitted by Octavarium64
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