All lyrics are copyright (C) and not to be reproduced without permission

Look On

Friday night it's time to take flight of the refuge of smoke and beer
But here's a small pub who'll sell you stuff so let's go in here
The light are low so the cops don't know it's really open this late
Just a few old men in a drinking den who put their drinks on the slate
And fighting with the jukebox is a fiddle and guitar
With fingers that are painful they're both singing out with all their hearts
And the band was playing for no one to hear
The people were drinking, they'd not come to cheer
Playing for peanuts and singing for beer
Look on, look on, look on, look on, look on.

Same adventure city centre with their case on the ground
On street benches some ten pences might even make up a pound
They are just a pair of buskers no one gives them an eye
And even if you like their riff you can still just walk on by
The pay they get is worthless, there's nothing if they rest
It pays for all the strings they broke but it doesn't make them less depressed
Cos the band was playing for no one to hear
The people were shopping, they'd not come to cheer
Playing for peanuts, that's all you'll get here
Look on, look on, look on, look on, look on.

In the chart news some low IQ's rapping about himself
And nubile madams short of talent show their legs to sell
And the long haired guys turn the volumes high to hide all their mistakes
While the record bosses' only loss is signing them too late
So what makes that young busker practice any more
Singing songs, writing words for everybody to ignore?
Still in the distance as the years rumble on
Look on while the rubbish sweeps to number one
What can I do but keep writing the songs
And look on and look on and look on and look on and look on?

Words and music by Den Miller
Copyright (C) 2003 Den Miller