Kate Tempest - Salt Coast lyrics

Salt coast, foul wind
Old ghosts, scrap tin
Leaves, rain
Leaves, rain

Salt coast, foul wind
Old ghosts, scrap tin
Leaves, rain
Leaves, rain

All dressed up with nowhere to go
I love your sleeve-pulling nervousness
I love the way you crumble
Into chalk at your edges
I love the way you fade into
A sky that is as endless
As your willingness to try

Keep going and it will get better

I love the way you push to get clear
I love the way you dance to get strong

Ancient
Slick clay, rock-formed, wet sand, moss-borne
What came before
And what will come after

Beneath the orderly queues, the bad moods
The nice views
The have nots and have-twos
The night shifts in flat shoes
The discarded masks, the empty tubes
The colds, the flus, the reds
The blues, the Buy-to let
The Play-to-lose
The White Ace, the Grey
Goose, the Michelin-starred
The fast food
The straight lies, the strange truth

I can hear the deep rasp of your laughter
Joyful

Beneath the stifled resentments
And micro-aggressions
All part of the fabric
The tension woven so tight
It defies it's dimension
The see-but don't-feel
The know-but don't-mention

There you are; hedonistic, self-destructive
Insecure
Trying to get away from the
Mistakes you've made before

Salt coast, foul wind
Old ghosts, scrap tin
Leaves, rain
Leaves, rain

Salt coast, foul wind
Old ghosts, scrap tin
Leaves, rain
Leaves, rain

Veering into change
I appreciate your efforts
Acknowledging your privilege
But prone to back-stepping

Sure, it's not by our past that
Our future will be measured
It's by the very moment
That we're slumping in
Dishevelled
Six hours in to some TV show that
Tastes like the feeling of pizza
I know what you reach for

All dressed up with nowhere to go
Benched, waiting for a path to open up
Waiting for a thing that might
Make you old enough
To get into the pub
Where people drink to lost youth

I see you
Scraping the gravel in your Air Max
So beautiful, so chaotic, so grounded
Home
Concrete and loam
Brick-dust and loans
Wood-floors
Screen doors
And a place of your own
Pay it off the rest of your life
But who's asking?

Restless, the damp night approaching
Distilling the heat
Too long on your feet
Now you want to be free
From the strain of what's done in your name
Every single inch of you is somebody's claim

The familiar refrain
Of their glory and your shame
You just want to keep moving
The energy contained
Is spilling out and making trouble for you
Nothing is the same

You got out from underneath the
Weight of suffer and obey
The tyranny and hate of
Britannia rules the waves
And now you swing your hips as
You go strutting down the lane

I love you when I see you this plain

Your salt coast, your foul wind
Your old ghosts, your scrap tin
The browning of your leaves
And the greening of your rain

Salt coast, foul wind
Old ghosts, scrap tin
Leaves, rain
Leaves, rain

Salt coast, foul wind
Old ghosts, scrap tin
Leaves, rain
Leaves, rain