Pocket the rhymes of all those years
They'll help you to smile amongst your fears
Things that I took for granted
Slip away

In a golden haze of easy days
And every single teenage phase
The only tinge of sadness
Is how little I recall

Always believed in independence
Freedom to build my own defences
Things that I really wanted 
They gave away

With common sense, a few new pence
And early adult adolescence
I never realised
How close my back was to the wall

As good as we could be and as bad as we knew how
What was written there and then can be read here and now
Knowledge is forever though the lessons never last
Before we face the future
We must learn to face the past

Long live the adults who saved the world
And long live the insults that we hurled
Antics, particoloured, fluorescent green

Of racing minds, venetian blinds
And attitudes of various kinds
Playing to the crowd
Performing unrehearsed and live

Glorious Fridays spent as tag teams
All of us prized the same old scenes
Sharp-tongued naivety just fighting to be heard

In the endless jokes, the crazy smokes
And the hearts that bled for every hoax
The image shines the attitude 
Just struggles to survive

As bad as we could be and as good as we knew how
The freedom of the then is the burden of the now
The future comes so slowly, the present goes so fast
How can we grasp either
With our hands full of the past?


Future Present

A desperate attempt by a band who do not know where their tinnitus stops and their tunes begin. They no doubt, now realise that their efforts would sound better had they invested in power tools from B&Qs bargain bucket rather than in guitars. An example of how important it is to own, or have access to, someone who can hold a note or two. The phrase "Aspiration exceeding ability" is not necessarily applicable since there is no evidence of ability. On a positive note, probably no-one will listen to it.

Pin Cushion

The Plough Of A Nervous Man

A man was sliding downhill 
In a way he didn't want to
Trying not to wind up landfill
Now that would come back to haunt you

He's got his reasons
His eyes are full of hope
He feels ill at ease though as he's
Blindly gliding down the icy slope
And What you see is 
Never what you get so 
Take your beliefs make
Sure they're worth each freezing breath

Lets raise a toast to the nervous men 
Who overdosed on ibuprofen
It's not about why you struggle with doubt
It's just about when you're gonna wipe out

It was the plough of a nervous man

With his looks enhanced by a lustrous tan
And the elegance of trying to board a bus with a pram
With no foreseeable need of a pension plan
And an underachieving attention span
You have to admit, as he mules around the place, 
He has the  grace and precision of an army surplus van
Witness the ease with which his pelvis is displaced
As he assumes the position of the plough of a nervous man

Lets talk of mice and men
You know it's only cowardice when
You want to carve but don't know how
And you can't find the heart to start again
...in a  plough   

Don't fear
The Skier

Let's salute the nervous men
Who don't dilute the nurofen
It's not about how you deal with the fear
It's just about why you feel the need to be here

It was the plough of a nervous man

A man went sliding down a hill
believed he was exercising free will
Faith doesn't come in certain amounts
So you better make every second count 

The Plough Of A Nervous Man

So Many Words

And when you don't know what you really want
It's so much harder to decide
And when you don't know what you really think
Keep your hands down by your side

You can laugh but don't ever sneer
Always smile but never grin
Never wear your heart on your sleeve
Your heart will end up in a sling

There's so many words
To talk of the way our life's gonna change
Theres so many ways
To see just how quickly it all stays the same

And when you don't know if you really care
It's so much harder to achieve
And when you don't know if you really love
It's so much harder to believe

Killing time wouldn't save the day
You should hang the cost instead
Bare your soul or follow your heart
Either way you'll lose your head

So Many Words So Little Time

The Band

The MiniMetros can't sing or play. If you fancy doing some vocals let us know. If you like the stuff and want to use it carry on.

Grump Rock

It's what you listen to when you reach an age that makes it impossible to find out what's number one in the hit parade. 

It's what your slowly melting memory thinks punk rock used to sound like. 

It's what people with proper, smudgy tattoos, positioned at the correct locations around the body listen to.

It's what advocates of social not working like.

It's liked by those who wear platform shoes on a night out to disguise the limp.

It's not compilation albums of sense baffling electric bilge that no-one listened to the first time round. That's called "Father's Day Present"

It's not decade defying codgers reforming bands that were great when you were snogging your first girlfriend but now sound slightly sinister, banging away in the background, as you lace up your nikes ready for a trip down the GPs to get your repeat prescription. 

It's what you power walk to when you need to lose weight, prior to the operation.

It's a phase you go through before moving on to opera, which is a time in your life when the fat lady is the only one with enough dBs to overcome your high frequency hearing loss and drown your tinnitus.

Don't try and debate it with the bouquet of hoodies sat on your brightly coloured, grey mondeo. They won't understand.
