I think this is the house
Unless I am mistaken
Yes – there; those are the blinds
We’d close to prying eyes
I remember then
When you were young and happy
How you’d shyly look away
And drop your underwear
And things were different then
When girls were girls and men were men
And who and what and why and when
Was no-one’s news
When he was through and done
She’d stand against that window
Look down into the street
As he got back in his car
Tomorrow he’d be back
And she’d still be here waiting
Clutching at her skirts
And listening for the door
And things were different then
When girls were girls and men were men
And who and what and why and when
Was no-one’s news
Now he’s sat in a chair
And they have to mash his food up
And his eyes have clouded over
And he stains his underwear
She wonders what he feels
And she wonders when they touch him
If he remembers her
Like she remembers him
Notes
Obviously I’ve got no formal musical training at all, and no idea how to arrange instruments, so this final setting of strings and oboes and whatnot was the result of hours of painstaking trial and error (and of course, none of them are real instruments). I’m a bit disgruntled with the mix, as the vocal is simultaneously too loud and buried too deep in the mix… so fuck knows what I’ll do with it.
The lyrics…? Well: you can be the judge. They’re an attempt at telling a short story across a few decades in three verses, told from a couple of different points of view, about a questionable relationship between a man and a woman/girl. I suppose if you squint it could be about the exploitation of women by men. There’s a seedy underbelly with no happy resolution, which I guess might ring true in some circumstances.