Lyrics

The Unfinished History of my Favourite Knitted Sweater

 

Today I saw Jeffrey Lewis play in Hull at the Bar Adelphi,
He was wearing some old Truckers hat and Jack was sipping whiskey.
In my bag I had his jumper that he left when he played & stayed in Lincoln.
And from that day until this evening, well it always got me thinking.

Shall I send it back by airmail? Should I follow him on tour?

Or is even worth the hassle coz I’m cold and also poor.
And by that time I got so deep in thought, staring into space,
The jumper started glowing and slowly moved towards my face.
Like a wand choosing the wizard or Lee-Roy finally becoming the master, I
knew I had to wear it soon, to unearth its godly powers.

I was like, Sweater, Jumper, Pullover-HOVA-King of all this shit,

Your just a piece of knitted wool, that I bet don’t even fit.
Now I know artists don’t always get it right, one bad choice could really screw them.
Like selling butter or office equipment and whatever Iggy was doing.

So come on Sweater, it’s just you and me, you gotta make me understand.

These artists are just like us, right? Fucking puppets to the man.
Can we really function without them? Would all life seize to exist?
Two chords can live forever, when maybe three is pushing it.

I guess when you play for dope and speed, self-destruction is a given,
But what breaks a man to finally ask for cash and recognition?
Or when you hear a band you love break up and blame it on punk rock,
When really they were either too shit to begin with or just gave up.

If we look at our heroes, who’ve learnt the hard way on the road to self-expression,

We owe it to them to carry on the flame to this never ending punk rock lesson.

So that morning after the night before, the one with all the laughter,

I swore never to do shrooms again, and all bad recreations,
Or next time when I’m outta mind I’ll remember to record all revelations!
And focus on all the good things, including creative energy,
Like the last time I saw Jeffrey Lewis play or the riff from 1970.
So back it went in my wardrobe-no more tantrums or self-loathing,
I’ll keep it as a collectable or decipher its hidden coding?
So from that day until this Morning I’ve had it hanging in my room,
And when I heard that he was playing I grabbed the STORM and hitched a ride.

He was playing with the Junkyard at the good ol’ Hull Adelphi,

And wearing some old trucker’s hat and Jack was sipping Whiskey.
He was sat behind the Merchandise & staring into space,
So I moved towards his comic books whilst thinking what to say.

I started flicking nervously, through a book called Sonnet Youth

It’s got that picture of a girl smoking a cigarette, you know the one from the
Album Goo, I always thought she looked kinda hot, dangerous
Has that nihilistic look about her…She killed her Sisters Parents!?
Any way, I don’t really know where I’m going with this. 

So from the confusion & deliriousness I slowly slipped into a daydream.

The chick with the dark sunglasses blew her smoke into my face.
She said, “Hey dude, get it together you’re sweating on me and Shakespeare,

he’s a normal human being man, relax with all your fear.”

I looked at Will with the hope he’d say some words that would inspire,
But merely nodded persuasively, and then turned back looking sour.

Well I gotta be honest, BILL you’ve kinda of let me down,

you created most of our English Language; it’s you that wears the crown.

How bout a sonnet or soliloquy, maybe a timeless solid prose,
Recite the meaning of Mary-Christ, recite a GOD DAMN SHOW!
Then from a distant corner I heard a voice that softly spoke,
“Hey man, can I help you there? You look so deep in thought.”
So I took one last look at Shakespeare and no longer felt out of sorts.

Several years ago, you played a show and crashed at my house in Lincoln,

you left a sweater on my bed, and it got me kinda thinking.

Shall I send back by airmail? Or just follow you on tour?
And as I stood there shouting loudly, I opened my bag and it was for the better,

he quickly snatched it off me yelling, FUCK YEAH MAN, MY SWEATER!

Thanks for holding on to it, how bout we do a trade?

So I held up the copy of Sonnet Youth and went quickly on my way.

Coz today I saw Jeffrey Lewis play on stage at the Hull Adelphi,

He was wearing some old Truckers hat and Jack was sipping whiskey.
In my bag I had his jumper that he left when he played & stayed in Lincoln.
And from that day until this evening, well it always got me thinking.

Like what if after he was reconciled with his holey tattered sweater,

He took the time to write a song or include me in his comics?
He could call it “The Unfinished History of my Favourite Knitted Sweater”
Or something along those lines, he’s artist, he knows better....

Yeah, maybe not. And I’m sure there’s some deep, preachy, philosophical
Lesson to all of this, one I’ve somehow missed,
But right now Jeff’s hogging the stage and I really need to piss.

So with a belly full of Whiskey I was…errr, wearing some old truckers hat

Jeff or Jack-fucking-whatever-I don’t care anymore, someone was sipping Whiskey.

I had my arm around a girl- A whirlwind heat back to Lincoln.
Maybe it’s the booze talking, but again it got me thinking.

What if during, I dunno ‘The East River’ or whatever,
He was singing loudly in his head, FUCK YEAH MAN, MY SWEATER!
Did that guy really keep it hidden, in his closet for all those years?
Like a comic book in cling-seal or the Starfleet behind Force-field?
I think I left it there on purpose? That jumper had a mind of its own.

“Then she’d leave me and I’d walk back East alone”.