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Let's begin at the beginning: we're lovers and we're losers, we're heroes and we're pioneers, and we're beggars and we're choosers. |
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We're skirting round the edges of the ideal demographic. |
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We're almost on the guestlist, but we're always stuck in traffic. |
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We've watched our close associates up and play their parts; they're chatting up the it girls, and they're tearing up the charts, while we were paying with coppers to get our round in at the bar. |
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We're the |
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C-Team, we're the almost famous old friends of the stars. |
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Justin is the last of the great romantic poets, and he's the only one among us who is ever going to make it. |
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We planned a revolution from a cheap |
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Southampton bistro. |
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I don't remember details but there were |
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English boys with banjos. |
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Jay is our |
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St George, and he's standing on a wooden chair, and he sings songs and he slays dragons, and he's losing all his hair. |
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Adam is the resurrected spirit of |
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Gram Parsons, in plaid instead of rhinestone and living in |
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South London. |
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And no one's really clear about |
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Tommy's job description, but it's pretty clear he's vital to the whole damn operation. |
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Dave Danger smiles at strangers, |
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Tre's the safest girl |
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I know, Zo and |
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Harps will skamper up to victory in the city we call home. |
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We won't change our ways, we will proud remain when the glory fades. |
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I am sick and tired of people who are living on the |
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B-list. They're waiting to be famous and they're wondering why they do this. |
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And I know |
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I'm not the one who is habitually optimistic, but |
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I'm the one who's got the microphone here so just remember this: |
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Life is about love, last minutes and lost evenings, about fire in our bellies and furtive little feelings, and the aching amplitudes that set our needles all a-flickering, and help us with remembering that the only thing that's left to do is live. |
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After all the loving and the losing, the heroes and the pioneers, the only thing that's left to do is get another round in at the bar. |
