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Joe Cleere
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Song by Joe Cleere
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You see the line But yet it never bothers you. Two hours of waiting to get into a field. Now you’re queuing for a port-a-loo. Your pants weighed down From the bottles of your smuggled booze. You’d watch your friends In case they try to pull them down round you ankles. But the tent they have belongs to you. And you don’t see the significance. Of being free for this day with your friends. A moment in time you’ll never forget Like how you said: We don’t want no glossy stars. You can’t varnish it. We’re here because we love music. So tell it like it is. The tents too small, There’s eight sleeping toe to head. But that’s ok cause it’s only really used for couples And the rest of you don’t go to bed. The band sets up. The engineer shouts “2 1 2” You’d give your arm from the elbow If they’d give you a sandwich. But twenty quid will have to do. We don’t want no glossy stars. You can’t varnish it. We’re here because we love music. So tell it like it is. You’re on the bus. You’re starting to sober up. You’re getting sleepy and your eyelids are getting heavy. You think of all things you done. The days were long but some how they weren’t long enough. You get depressed at the thoughts that it might al be over. Then someone turns the radio up.
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