Sick to Death

Been a while hasn’t it? Suffice to say that 2021 has not been the easiest of rides thus far. And you may pick up some of that general vibe from the lyrics and, indeed, the mordant pacing of the song. At the time of writing I’m waiting for my good friend Den to do a guitar solo, because I did one and it was awful. Anyway, boil the kettle while you listen to it and then we can sit down and have a good old natter.


I’m tired of taking pills and waking up before the sun
I count the hours, one by one
I’m up here with the fucking morons on TV
And how come they all look like me?

I’ve had a bellyful of tea and sympathy,
I’m fucking sick to death of my own company,
The scales tell tales of woe – and secret calories,
In case it isn’t clear
Sometimes I wish I wasn’t here

It’s alright – I’ll be back tomorrow
It’s alright – I’ll be back tomorrow
It’s alright – I’ll be back tomorrow
Just you wait and see…

I’ve had enough of good advice from well-meaning friends,
It never, ever ever ever ever ends,
They say that words are cheap – but is that really true?
Cos I’ve got a bob or two,
And nothing much to do tonight…

It’s alright – I’ll be back tomorrow
It’s alright – I’ll be back tomorrow
It’s alright – I’ll be back tomorrow

I’m sick and tired of singing this song


In case you missed it, I’ve been diagnosed with a recurrence of a brain tumour that I had removed a decade ago. And that discovery came on the back of a miserable start to the year which saw me moving out of the family home to live back in a spare room at my mum and dad’s. I’m back home now, and trying to rebuild my life – but it’s a lot of work: pills. Therapy. Fall outs. Tears. Arguments. Big things.

From that unhappy wellspring came the lyrics to this song, that originally began life as a gentle country blues but as these things do, grew as I added layers to it. In fact, it was so very mordant in fact, that I rewrote the chorus with a big, uplifting melody and sentiment just to even things out. And, it’s true: I will be back tomorrow. As will all of us who carry on through our days with our secret emotional pain.

After completing it for the main part, I suddenly remembered a thing I wrote when I was about 17 or 18 – just a recurring guitar figure. When I first played it all those years ago, my drummer at the time was sat at a piano and played a descending figure in what I later figured out was 5/4 time. The unresolved, restless feel of this has stuck with me for nigh on thirty years, and now it’s finally found a home as a sort of coda.

Anyway, the rest you can figure out for yourself. I’m unhappy, and this is an unhappy song.

Now let’s never talk of it again.