Catfish Rising lyrics

Winds howled. Rains spit down.
All these nights playing precious games.
Cheap hotel in some seaboard town
closed down for the winter and whispered names.
Puppy-dog waves on a big moon sea
snap our heels half-heartedly
and how come you know better than me
that this is not love.
No, this is not love.

Empty drugstore postcards freeze
sunburst images of summers gone.

Well, you got a big-jib crane waiting to pick you up.
Mmmm, you see those snakes that crawl, they're just dying
to trip you up.
Live out in sad shacks at the back of town.
Hold your breath while we do you down
`cos we're all kinds of animals coming here:
occasional demons too.

Well, you got a nice apartment here with appliances and CD.

Roll yer own. Don't mean you got no money.
Only that you got no opportunity to shake it with that friend of mine.
Roll yer own if you can't buy readymade;
you won't be satisfied when you feel the sudden need
to unwind.
You know what moves you in the wee hours
when there's nothing on the answerphone.
And if you don't get enough of that electric love
don't try to get by ---

There's a black cat down on the quayside.
Ship's lights, green eyes glowing in the dark.
Two young cops handing out a beating:
know how to hurt and leave no mark.
Down in the half-lit bar of the hotel
there's a call for the last round of the day.
Push back the stool, take that elevator ride.
Fall in bed and kick my shoes away.
Rocks on the road.

Can't sleep through the wild sound of the city.

You want to be a bookworm You wanna be aloof
You wanna sit in judgement, looking down from the roof
Try a wee sensation: but first you have to want to join in.
You should be, should be raging down the freeway
with some friends from the mall.
Don't stay forever in your limbo: fly before you fall
little sparrow on the schoolyard wall.

So dress a little dangerous and modify your walk.

All of you sit up in bed. Don't think in straight lines ahead.
Can't sleep Head spin Don't think in circles, it'll do you in.
Think back to the dream you had; no sense of being good or bad.
Jump to the left, jump to the right. Think round corners into night.

Let's go in wet corridors: dive down drains.
Draw strength from machinery, it's al] the same.

It's a lonely life I live and I live this life to go
and if I leave you with one thing it's just that I want
you to know
I'll still be loving you tonight.
I left flowers on your table, left the lock on your door.
Staked a claim in your heartlands, put grain in your store.
I'll still be loving you tonight.

Got fingers on the button of that telephone dial.

I've been treated for mild depression
and I've been treated for growing pains.
I've been treated for hallucinations;
now I can see it all coming again.
Well, you can wind me up. Yeah, you can slow me down.
You can dig a little, and you can mess me around.
But there's one thing I should tell you, to which
you must agree:
There's no use you playing doctor to my disease.

Well, I don't care to eat out in smart restaurants.
I'd rather do a Vindaloo: take away is what I want.
I was down at the old Bengal, having telephoned a treat
when I saw her framed in the kitchen door.
She looked good enough to eat.
(And I mean eat.)
She was a tall thin girl.
She looked like a tall thin girl.
She said, ``Whose is this carry-out''
My face turned chilli red.

She drifted from some minor festival.
Didn't look like any sumrner of love:
just a thousand weekend warriors in a muddy field.
She was the hand to fit my glove.
Funny thing, the innocence of the lonely.
Funny thing, the charm of the young.

See how she moves just like two angels (in white innocence).
Yet one of them is on the run.
The other's tapping at my car window

Her love is like a candle: you light it up at night.
Her heart is like a pack of cards: one chance to guess it right.
Sometimes I do.
She's got a tongue like a viper, but she can whisper like a dove.
Soft touch like brushed velvet: till she hits you from above.
And sometimes she does.

She leaves me breathing: down like a fallen log.
Just when I feel like dancing
I wake up sleeping with the dog.

I'm banered and bruised. I got lines I can't use.
My head won't deliver. Well, I'm sold down the river.
But I'm turning again.
Yes, `n' I'm turning again.
Well, I'm turning again.
And I'm turning again.
Wearing gold-tipped boots, black jacket and tie.

Well, I've been second to none:
this horse was ready to run.
Now I'm has-been and used:
disarmed and de-fused
but I'm turning again.

I was in my watering-hole with some ugly friends of mine
when he door came off its hinges like a cork from fizzy wine.
He said, ``My name is Jesus: I'm the leader of the band.
Got to set up my equipment, if you boys can lend a hand.''
Oh yeah. When Jesus came to play.

He set that bandstand jumping. Yeah, and he cranked it up so loud.