NDC week 32, Genre: Britpop, theme: God! ™ ScreenslaveBlue ----------------------- [Intro: Jangly Britpop guitars meet Celtic punk accordion, minor key, stomping kick-drum, cheeky Northern British vocals.] Stumbled in the boozer, half-past ten, Pint in me fist, world’s gone mad again. Spied a bloke glowin’, sat by the bar, I said, “Oi, God, is that you, mate, bizarre?” [Verse 1: Gritty guitars, mandolin riff, driving bass, 4/4 punk drums, rowdy vocals with a British snarl.] He’s nursin’ a stout, beard scruffy and grey, Looked like he’d had one hell of a day. I said, “Mate, you runnin’ this whole bleedin’ show? The wars, the hunger, where’s it all go?” [Pre-Chorus: Solo guitar, accordion hum, soft snare, urgent British vocals.] Every tear, every scar, every broken dream, You pullin’ the strings, or just lettin’ off steam? [Chorus: Full band, jangly guitars, accordion wail, pounding drums, anthemic vocals with rowdy British harmonies.] I said, “Hello, God, is that you?” He said, (“Go bugger off, you daft fool!”) Tried to give him a hug, he shoved me away, Called me a wanker, what’s left to say? Oi, God, you behind it all? Or just a grumpy git in a pub’s rough hall? [Verse 2: Guitars, mandolin, bass, drums, subtle tin whistle, vocals with a cheeky Northern growl.] I leaned in, sloshed me pint on the floor, Said, “God, you made the stars, that’s hardcore! But what’s with the pain, the death, all the strife?” He sneered, (“Sod off, mate, get a life!”) [Pre-Chorus: Solo guitar, accordion, faint banjo, pleading vocals with a British edge.] Every laugh, every grief, every spark in the dark, You callin’ the shots, or just havin’ a lark? [Chorus: Full band, louder guitars, wild accordion, crashing cymbals, thick vocal harmonies.] I said, “Hello, God, is that you?” He said, (“Go bugger off, you daft fool!”) Tried to give him a hug, he shoved me away, Called me a wanker, what’s left to say? Oi, God, you behind it all? Or just a grumpy git in a pub’s rough hall? [Bridge: Distorted guitar, accordion swell, sparse percussion, shouty vocals with a Northern roar.] I yelled, “Mate, why the wars, why the mess?” He smirked, (“You lot made this bloody distress!”) Tried to buy him a pint, he just turned his nose, Said, (“Sort your own shite, don’t give me woes!”) Oi, God, show us somethin’ real, Or you just here neckin’ that ale with zeal? [Chorus: Full band, searing guitar, accordion, tin whistle, rowdy British backing vocals.] I said, “Hello, God, is that you?” He said, (“Go bugger off, you daft fool!”) Tried to give him a hug, he shoved me away, Called me a wanker, what’s left to say? Oi, God, you behind it all? Or just a grumpy git in a pub’s rough hall? [Outro: Single guitar, soft accordion, slow tempo, reverb-heavy piano, wistful British vocals.] So I left the pub, head in a whirl, God’s just a geezer, givin’ life a twirl. Is he up there, in the joy and the pain? Or just a punter, hidin’ from the rain? Oi, God, was that you at all? Or some old sod in a pub’s rough hall?
