I woke up at four in the afternoon,
Put on my face by the light of the moon.
Spent forty quid on a shirt full of holes;
Told Mum that it represented my soul.
She said, “It represents a very bad deal.”
I said, “You don’t u-u-understand how I feel.”
She said, “I do. You’ve been up all night.”
I said, “That’s because I’m a creature of—”

The PlayStation?

…Night.

GOTHNIGHT!
Blacker than your black,
I’ve got a plastic raven in a plastic bag.
GOTHNIGHT!
Sadder than the rest,
With six pounds of silver-coloured tat upon my chest.
If you’re miserable, I’m miserable-er than you.
And if that’s not a word, I’ll be miserable about that too.

I drank some blood to prove I was undead.
It was black pudding gravy. I spat it in the shed.
I say I live in darkness ’cause the sunlight burns my eyes;
The truth is, I’m on benefits, so it’s just a massive lie.
I told the lads from the club, who were suitably impressed,
Till Mum came in with Sleepy Ted and my freshly ironed vest.

GOTHNIGHT!
Blacker than your black,
I’ve got a plastic raven in a plastic bag.
GOTHNIGHT!
Sadder than the rest,
With six pounds of silver-coloured tat upon my chest.
If you’re miserable, I’m miserable-er than you.
And if that’s not a word, I’ll be miserable about that too.

GOTHNIGHT!
Blacker than your black,
I’ve got a plastic raven in a plastic bag.
GOTHNIGHT!
Sadder than the rest,
With six pounds of silver-coloured tat upon my chest.
If you’re miserable, I’m miserable-er than you.
And if that’s not a word, I’ll be miserable about that too.

I woke up at four in the afternoon,
Put on my face by the light of the moon.
Spent forty quid on a shirt full of holes;
Told Mum that it represented my soul.
She said, “It represents a very bad deal.”
I said, “You don’t u-u-understand how I feel.”
She said, “I do. You’ve been up all night.”
I said, “That’s because I’m a creature of the night.”

I wore a coffin-shaped backpack into town today.
The bus driver said, “Single?”
I said, “Painfully.”

GOTHNIGHT!
Blacker than your black,
I’ve got a plastic raven in a plastic bag.
GOTHNIGHT!

I’m a princess of eternal doom—
Till Mum shouts up, “Get dressed and tidy up your room.”
If you’re miserable, I’m miserable-er than you.
And if that’s not a word, I’ll be miserable about that too.

GOTHNIGHT!
Blacker than your black,
I’ve got a plastic raven in a plastic bag.
GOTHNIGHT!
I’m the shadow of Zah-ha-doom—
Till Mum shouts up, “Get dressed and tidy up your room.”

If you’re miserable, I’m miserable-er than you.
And if that’s not a word, I’ll be miserable about that too.

GOTHNIGHT!
Blacker than your black,
I’ve got a plastic raven in a plastic bag.
GOTHNIGHT!
Sadder than the rest,
With six pounds of silver-coloured tat upon my chest.
If you’re miserable, I’m miserable-er than you.
And if that’s not a word, I’ll be miserable about that too.

BOHEMIAN RHAPSODY II

The moon was pale.
The streets were still.
I took my bag…
And came down the hill.

Black lace trailing through the rain,
I passed the off-licence again.
The man behind the counter sighed,
“You ate the lot last Friday night.”
I gripped his sleeve. “Then check out back.”
He trembled as he fetched a sack.
No wine, no fags, no scratch-card luck—
Just little feet of powdered muck.

I’ve loved and lost, I’ve wept and sinned,
There’s beef-flavoured dust upon my chin.
No mortal kiss could mean as much
As one more bag of Monster Munch.

ROAST BEEF MONSTER MUNCH!
Hear the midnight thunder crunch!
Shop by shop and shelf by shelf,
I bought the lot and ate them myself.
ROAST BEEF MONSTER MUNCH!
My evening meal! My breakfast! Lunch!
You offered love, I felt no spark—
I heard a packet in the dark.

The corner shop had nothing left,
The owner called it “legal theft.”
I paid full price; he watched me chew.
I ate the ones on special too.
The petrol station, ten past three,
Had locked the crisps away from me.
“Pump number?” asked the weary bloke.
I whispered, “Beef.” His spirit broke.

My velvet sleeves are thick with crumbs,
The hunger calls, the hunger comes.
I brushed a tear from one pale cheek
And found a bit from Tuesday week.

ROAST BEEF MONSTER MUNCH!
Hear the midnight thunder crunch!
Shop by shop and shelf by shelf,
I bought the lot and ate them myself.
ROAST BEEF MONSTER MUNCH!
My evening meal! My breakfast! Lunch!
You offered love, I felt no spark—
I heard a packet in the dark.

They offered pickled onion.
I told them, “Read the room.”
They offered Flamin’ Hot instead.
I pointed at my costume.
My lover stood upon the stairs:
“It’s either me or those.”
I tried to say, “Please understand…”
But powder hit his clothes.

Now every shop has drawn its blind,
But there’s a Spar I’ve yet to find.
Beyond the bypass, past the lights—
They’re open twenty-four tonight!

UNBAR THE DOORS!
REVEAL THE STOCK!
I KNOW YOU’VE HAD
A NINE O’CLOCK!
DELIVERY!
DON’T LIE TO ME!
I SAW THE VAN!
I’VE GOT THE MONEY!

She saw the van!
She’s got the money!
We checked the back!
There isn’t any!

THEN WHY IS DAI
BEHIND THE TILL
WITH ROAST BEEF DUST
UPON HIS FRILL?

He had a bag!
He had a munch!
He didn’t have
A proper lunch!

ROAST BEEF MONSTER MUNCH!
Let the heavens hear me crunch!
Shop by shop and town by town,
No little beefy foot left unfound!
ROAST BEEF MONSTER MUNCH!
Ring the bells and spike the punch!
Let angels weep and devils stare—
I’ve got a multipack to spare!

She’s got a multipack to spare!

I SAID I HAD ONE—
NOT THAT I’D SHARE!

The dawn crept in.
The birds took flight.
I licked my fingers…

They’re smaller than they used to be.

THEY’RE SMALLER THAN THEY USED TO BE!

Open lyric sheet — page 1 · Page 2

Quarter past twelve, the kettle’s gone cold
I’m naming the file “final_final_old”
A ruined cathedral, a tasteful black rose
And seventeen fonts that nobody knows
I drag in a raven, it lands on my face
The cursor’s a priest and I’m losing my place
The cover looks grand, like a duke’s tax return
I only need one little shadow to burn

Drop shadow, where did you go?
I’ve made the whole album, but nothing will show
Drop shadow, answer me now
I’ve got a black rose and a very pale brow
Drop shadow, lost in the night
Make my pretentious title look properly bright
One more click, one more desperate plea—
Drop shadow, come out and haunt me

Selected verses from the LP.

DOKTOR CORVIDEA!

A plastic raven.
Painted black.
An ancient demon.
Do not tap.
One crack will break the binding spell.
One little crack…
And out comes Hell.

Doktor Corvidea…

Two moulded wings, a hollow breast,
A thousand years of spite compressed.
No blood, no bones, no heart to beat—
A little price tag on my feet.
You bought me cheap one Halloween.
You’ve no idea where I have been.
I watched you unpack me with a knife.
So close to starting my new life.

Move me nearer to the edge.
Balance me upon the ledge.
One small push and you shall see
What’s been imprisoned inside me.

DOKTOR CORVIDEA!
Say my name and dim the light!
DOKTOR CORVIDEA!
Something wicked waits inside!
Break the bird and break the seal!
Let my ancient fury rise!
I shall feast upon your terror—
Once you’ve peeled off “SPECIAL BUY.”

As Genghis Khan, I swept the plains,
Left mighty kingdoms wrapped in flames.
Now someone’s put a hat on me
And cable-tied me to a tree.
As Vlad, I put my foes on stakes,
A sight to make brave soldiers quake.
Now there’s a bamboo garden cane
Up my behind against the rain.

I have conquered! I have slain!
I shall walk the earth again!
You stroke my head and call me “sweet.”
I’m planning something for your feet.

DOKTOR CORVIDEA!
Hear the voices! Hear the name!
DOKTOR CORVIDEA!
Every wicked soul remains!
Break the bird and break the seal!
Let the gates swing open wide!
I shall drown the world in darkness—
Someone take these googly eyes!

As Nero, I watched cities burn,
Now on the mantelpiece I yearn.
As Blackbeard, I commanded fleets,
Now pigeons do things on my feet.
In Whitechapel, I stalked the night,
Now I’m your motion-sensor light.
As Ivan, I made grown men flee—
You hang your dressing gown on me.

And then…
There’s the band.

You put a bonnet on my head.
You’ve used my wings to butter bread.
You left me sitting by the merch
And once forgot me in a church.
You call me “Polly” on the stage,
You keep me in a hamster cage.
I’ve heard your jokes. I’ve kept a list.
I hope you’re fond of being missed.

DOKTOR CORVIDEA!
Let the rafters shake with dread!
DOKTOR CORVIDEA!
You shall wish you’d bought the shed!
Break the bird and break the seal!
Let your little concert end!
I have punishments prepared
For every member of this band!

That was a warning.

That was your best bit.

No sacrifice.
No ancient key.
A hammer would
Be fine by me.
Break the vessel.
Crack the shell.
Then you can meet
The rest of Hell.

It says “shatterproof” underneath.

It says WHAT?

YOUR GUITAR STRINGS SHALL TURN TO WORMS!
YOUR LEATHER TROUSERS SHRINK AT DAWN!
YOUR BASS SHALL SLIP A QUARTER FLAT!
I’LL GLUE THE PEGS AND LEAVE IT AT THAT!

He’ll glue the pegs.
He’s thought this through.

YOUR BOOTS SHALL SQUEAK UPON YOUR FEET!
YOUR DRUM MACHINE SHALL LOSE THE BEAT!
EACH TIME YOU STRIKE A POSE OF DREAD—
A LITTLE DUCK NOISE INSTEAD!

Still better than the second album.

DOKTOR CORVIDEA!
Let the heavens hear my name!
DOKTOR CORVIDEA!
I SHALL RISE IN BLOOD AND FLAME!

I’LL CHANGE THE NAME UPON YOUR VAN
TO “GARY’S HAPPY WEDDING BAND!”
AND WHEN YOU PLAY YOUR DARKEST SONG—
I’LL MAKE THE CROWD ALL CLAP ALONG!

ON ONE AND THREE!
ON ONE AND THREE!

YES! ONE AND THREE!
FOR ALL ETERNITY!

I HAVE OUT LIVE’D THE FALL OF NATIONS!
I HAVE RETURNED THROUGH BLOOD AND WAR!
I WILL NOT SPEND ETERNITY
AS SOMETHING HOLDING BACK YOUR DOOR!

DOKTOR CORVIDEA!

BREAK THE BIRD!

DOKTOR CORVIDEA!

RELEASE YOUR LORD!

DOKTOR!
COR—VI—DE—A!

Open lyric sheet — page 1 · Page 2 · Page 3

The staircase shakes with the kick downstairs,
Rain in my collar, smoke in my hair.
A girl by the doorway stamps my wrist;
Silver rings and an amethyst.
I leave my coat with a week’s bad news,
Follow the bass in my battered boots.
Then the room opens, violet and red—
For once, there’s nothing to do in my head.

One girl dances with her eyes shut tight,
One mouths every word in the ultraviolet.
One catches me watching and holds my gaze,
Then takes my hand as the guitar plays.

Velvet after midnight,
Black lace in the strobes.
Beautiful girls with their heads thrown back,
Singing every word they know.
Velvet after midnight,
Let the last train leave.
She pulls me further onto the floor—
There’s nowhere else I need to be.

Red lips pressed to a plastic glass,
A whispered joke as the people pass.
She leans so close that I miss what she said,
Then laughs and says the whole thing again.
Her friend has roses inked down one arm,
A safety pin holding a broken charm.
They make some room as the next song starts;
I know the drums by the beat of my heart.

The DJ reaches for a battered sleeve,
Someone shouts, “You’re playing this for me!”
She lifts my arm and turns underneath—
Black hair caught on the chain at my sleeve.

Velvet after midnight,
Black lace in the strobes.
Beautiful girls with their heads thrown back,
Singing every word they know.
Velvet after midnight,
Let the last train leave.
She pulls me further onto the floor—
There’s nowhere else I need to be.

Outside, I’d have found some reason
To stand there checking my phone.
Inside, she says, “I love this bit.”
I tell her, “So do I.”
We wait for the drums together.
She counts them in—
One, two, three, four—

Velvet after midnight,
Black lace in the strobes.
Beautiful girls with their boots worn through,
Dancing like they own the room.
Velvet after midnight,
The lights come up at three.
She writes her number across my wrist,
Underneath the ink that let me in.

Up thirteen steps.
Into the rain.
She says, “Next Friday?”
I say her name.

Open lyric sheet — page 1 · Page 2

When the night was over, I made my way,
To the outside world, where the cold awaits
I stood for a while, getting cold
And watched you disappear down the road.
Your friends were laughing at the lights,
You turned to answer someone’s call.
I had a hundred things to say;
You hadn’t heard my voice at all.

So I take the long way home,
Past the windows turning grey.
There’s a ringing in my ears
And your face in every pane.
It was such a lovely night;
I don’t want to let it go.
For a few more empty streets,
I can dream I’m walking you home.

The sun will come up soon,
the city is coming back to life.
The smell of smoke upon my clothes;
I keep imagining your smile.
You looked at someone by the stairs,
I smiled before I looked away.
I’ve carried that for half a mile,
hoping you were looking my way

Perhaps I saw you looking.

So I take the long way home,
Past the windows turning grey.
There’s a ringing in my ears
And your face in every pane.
It was such a lovely night;
I don’t want to let it go.
For a few more empty streets,
I can dream I’m walking you home.

When the night was over, I made my way,
To the outside world, where the cold awaits
I stood for a while, getting cold
And watched you disappear down the road.
Your friends were laughing at the lights,
You turned to answer someone’s call.
I had a hundred things to say;
You hadn’t heard my voice at all.

So I take the long way home,
Past the windows turning grey.
There’s a ringing in my ears
And your face in every pane.
It was such a lovely night;
I don’t want to let it go.
For a few more empty streets,
I can dream I’m walking you home.

The sun will come up soon,
the city is coming back to life.
The smell of smoke upon my clothes;
I keep imagining your smile.
You looked at someone by the stairs,
I smiled before I looked away.
I’ve carried that for half a mile,
hoping you were looking my way

Perhaps I saw you looking.

So I take the long way home,
Past the windows turning grey.
There’s a ringing in my ears
And your face in every pane.
It was such a lovely night;
I don’t want to let it go.
For a few more empty streets,
I can dream I’m walking you home.

Open lyric sheet — page 1 · Page 2

Before we had a name,
You wore the black.
We learnt to look away.
You smiled back.

No need to act so cold.
No borrowed sorrow.
We stayed until you left,
Then missed you for all of my tomorrows.

You never meant
To leave that ache.
I felt it grow
In your empty wake.

Melinda Jane…
Still the same.
Your dark was soft and pure.
I should’ve… never wanted… more.

Melinda Jane…
I had to leave again.
That old song starts,
And I fall into the dark.

You let your guard fall.
I turned away.
Made some cruel joke.
You let it fade.

You reached for my hand.
I watched the floor.
I thought there’d be time.
You thought no more.

I meant to call.
The days went by.
Then pride became
A long goodbye.

Melinda Jane…
You’re still the same.
Your dark was soft and pure.
And you… expected… more.

Melinda Jane…
There you go again.
That old song starts,
And I fall into the dark.

Forty years gone.
You’re still the same.
That quiet smile.
That soft refrain.

We speak of you.
Then someone sighs.
We each recall
A different goodbye.

I won’t ask where.
I won’t come by.
Your life is yours.
So is goodbye.

You did no wrong.
You left no scar.
Just a blinding light
Where you once were.

Melinda Jane…
I’m still as vain.
Your dark was soft and pure.
And you… required… so… much… more.

Melinda Jane…
There you are again.
Tainted Love plays,
And I don’t deserve the dark.

Melinda Jane…
Still the same.
Her dark was soft and pure.
I should’ve… never wanted… more.

Melinda Jane…
Tainted Love’s pain.
That old song plays,
And I fall without the dark.

Melinda Jane…
Are you still the same?
Her dark was soft and pure.
I should’ve… never wanted… more.

Melinda Jane…
Tainted Love’s pain.
That old song plays,
And I fall without the dark.

My first true love, Edward was his name,
For seven years, he stayed; I stayed the same.
I watched the years grow heavy in his eyes,
And begged a god who never once replied.

I held him close through his last failing breath,
As though my arms could keep him safe from death.
I would have given all my years for one—
But morning came, and Edward, you were gone.

Grow old with me—I asked too much.
I could not keep you with my touch.
You had so little time to stay;
I had forever left to pay.
What cruel mercy leaves me here,
Still reaching for you, year on year?
I would have gladly died with you—
But even that I could not do.

For months I left your place beside my own,
And learned the weight of coming home alone.
Then, in a stranger’s eyes, that shade of green—
The nearest thing to you that I had seen.

I swore I’d never ask him to be you,
But called him Edward before the week was through.
He turned towards me, trusting in that name;
I wept because the feeling wasn’t shame.

The second Edward never knew the first.
I loved him with a hunger almost cursed.
I told myself this time I would be brave,
Then lay awake, afraid of one more grave.

He too grew frail beneath my waiting hands.
I watched him leave for somewhere time still ends.
Two names alike, two dates cut into stone;
Two different ways of leaving me alone.

Grow old with me—I asked too much.
I could not keep you with my touch.
You had so little time to stay;
I had forever left to pay.
What cruel mercy leaves me here,
Still reaching for you, year on year?
I would have gladly died with you—
But even that I could not do.

Edward Three, I swore I’d love you less,
But broke that promise at your first caress.
Four, I begged you not to leave me too;
Five, I called you Four and wept for you.

Six, I knew each sign of age by then;
Seven, still I prayed those prayers again.
Eight, I held you till the light was gone;
Nine, how could I ask you to hold on?

Grow old with me—I asked too much.
Your fur was cooling at my touch.
Nine lives, nine graves beneath the tree;
And still no grave stood there for me.
What cruel mercy leaves me here,
To love so briefly, mourn for years?
I would have gladly gone with you—
But even that I could not do.

I said there’d be no other.
I meant it when I cried.
For months I passed the shelter,
Then one day went inside.

The same green eyes looked up at me.
I reached into the pen.
“My first true love was Edward…”

I took you home.
Edward Ten.

Down Leeds Road stood a curious shop,
With a clock above the counter that had long since stopped.
Dorian Gaye wore a burgundy tie,
And watched every customer with ageless eyes.
He’d sold our gran sweets when she was a girl,
Same smooth face and the same black curl.
Four teenage friends came in from the rain—
He smiled as though we’d come round again.

Two lads, twin sisters, all dressed up in black,
Ten pence for Monster Munch—we kept going back.
Roast Beef dust on the cuffs of our coats,
Pickled Onion catching at the backs of our throats.
“Colourings, flavourings, what do they do?”
He said, “Preserve things. Perhaps even you.”
We laughed off his comment. He didn’t laugh back.
Just slipped us another complimentary bag.

Our parents grew older.
Our schoolfriends went grey.
We ate Monster Munch
And stayed the same age.
No dinner, no daylight,
No blood in a cup—
Just chemicals keeping
Our cheekbones held up.

THE POSTER OF DORIAN GAYE!

KEEP THAT HEAVY COVER IN PLACE!

THE MONSTER MUNCH, IMMORTAL BUNCH!

BREAKFAST, SUPPER, DINNER AND LUNCH!
THE POSTER OF DORIAN GAYE!
FORTY YEARS CRUNCHED AND SALTED AWAY!
Snack vampires rise when the daylight fades—
MONSTER MUNCH FOREVER!
KEEP THE YEARS AWAY!

We posed by his window in cold Yorkshire rain,
Four faces determined to look full of pain.
Behind us, three monsters were cheerful and bright—
The only ones dressed for enjoying the light.
When Dorian changed his window display,
I asked for the poster he’d taken away.
He rolled it in paper and tied it with thread:
“Keep it well covered,” was all that he said.

I took it next door to my damp bedroom,
The house sat on a ley line, it hung in the gloom.
We lived on the flavouring, salt and the crunch,
Four creatures of darkness sustained by our lunch.
The pink monster withered. The blue one grew thin.
The yellow one’s years settled deep in its skin.
They never once moved. They had nothing to say.
Just ink growing ancient while we stayed the same.

Now deep in the wardrobe,
Behind an old sheet,
Are all of the birthdays
We’ve managed to cheat.
Uncover those faces,
And all four will pay—
Forty years older
Before looking away.

THE POSTER OF DORIAN GAYE!
KEEP THAT NECESSARY COVER IN PLACE!
THE MONSTER MUNCH, IMMORTAL BUNCH!
BREAKFAST, SUPPER, DINNER AND LUNCH!
THE POSTER OF DORIAN GAYE!
FORTY YEARS CRUNCHED AND SALTED AWAY!
Snack vampires rise when the daylight fades—
MONSTER MUNCH FOREVER!
KEEP THE YEARS AWAY!

We tried eating vegetables once, as a test,
By tea-time my cleavage was down by my vest.
My sister ate muesli and found a grey hair;
We buried the box with a short, solemn prayer.
No garlic, no crucifix gives us a fright—
A “NOW WITH LESS ADDITIVES” label just might.
We don’t need a victim, we don’t need a vein,
Just Monster Munch crumbs in the bedclothes again.

We went back to question old Dorian Gaye,
But his shop is a gay sauna these days.
I asked, “Do you still do the bags for ten pence?”
He said, “Love, we charge rather more for entrance.”
“Have you seen Dorian? Burgundy tie?”
“That hardly narrows it down,” came the reply.
We left with no answers, went home in the rain—
They said we were welcome to come round again.

What keeps us youthful?

WE CAN’T PRONOUNCE IT!

How much have we eaten?

WE’D RATHER NOT COUNT IT!

THE MONSTER MUNCH, IMMORTAL BUNCH—
WITH EXCELLENT SKIN AND A TERRIBLE LUNCH!

Garry, that sheet needs a proper hot wash!

It’s holding back decades! You’re not taking it off!

DON’T PULL THAT CORNER!

DON’T LIFT THAT SHEET!

I’VE JUST SEEN MY MOTHER APPEAR IN MY CHEEKS!

SHUT THAT WARDROBE!

GET IT OUT OF SIGHT!
I’VE DEVELOPED AN INTEREST
IN GOLFING TONIGHT!

THE POSTER OF DORIAN GAYE!

KEEP THAT FILTHY OLD MANKY COVER—

KEEP IT IN PLACE!

THE MONSTER MUNCH, IMMORTAL BUNCH!
BREAKFAST, SUPPER, DINNER AND LUNCH!
THE POSTER OF DORIAN GAYE!
FORTY YEARS CRUNCHED AND SALTED AWAY!
Let the ink take the wrinkles, the bags take the blame—
MONSTER MUNCH FOREVER!
KEEP THE YEARS AWAY!

Leave it covered.
Leave it be.
Best before…
Nineteen eighty-three.