Heart of a Punk - Soul of a Rasta


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Magazine A Song for Mr Devoto

Old Stuff

In a moment of outrageous arrogance these words popped into my head and in the absence of new material by Magazine I may be forced to continue - consider this a threat.




Verney Green

I am standing on the platform at Verney Green
Between the chewing gum man and a speak your weight machine

In the waiting room they're showing a filmic scene
From the life of a Mancunian singer who died in '83

Why won't they leave me alone, why can't I make them see?
That the poor benighted soul bares no resemblance to me

Like Dali's serving spoons I'm sent crashing to a stone floor
A life of endless repetition has left me wanting more

Did you leave unannounced or did I just fall
Into a narcoleptic stupor because now I can't recall

But the Station Master keeps shouting, shouting endlessly
"This is Verney Green, This is Verney Green"


Where is Katerina Ivanovna with her sweet singing voice?
Backed into the sidings she never had a choice

I let you slip through my fingers I put you out of mind
Now the Doctors won't operate, scared of what they'll find

The three fates keep spinning, spinning relentlessly
I look across the tracks to a man who looks like me

Like Dali's serving spoons I'm sent crashing to a stone floor
A life of endless repetition has left me wanting more


Did you leave unannounced or did I just fall
Into a narcoleptic stupor because now I can't recall

But the Station Master keeps shouting, shouting endlessly
"This is Verney Green, This is Verney Green"


You should get out more. They said. You're living in a dream.
But now I'm stuck far from Metro-land on the platform at Verney Green





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