NoAsis
indie, soft rock, bass, piano, acoustic, electronicLyrics
**Title: Don’t Look Backside in Anger**
*(Verse 1)*
Wembley’s roaring, but the air's thick with spite,
Oasis back again, but nothing feels right.
Twinstown’s fuming, Big Daddy’s lost his mind,
Months of hellish practice, just to be left behind.
That rusty Escort’s barely holding on,
Stolen from a gypsy, it’s all gone wrong.
Joe Graham’s half-asleep, but he knows the score,
This night’s a disaster, nothing more.
*(Chorus)*
And then all hell breaks loose, the chopper's in sight,
El Wapito crashes down, igniting the fight.
Joe Graham snaps, camera flying wild,
Dave Barr’s mid-selfie, screaming like a child.
Noel’s venom hits the mic, his patience worn thin,
“F*** this, Big Daddy, you’re never gonna win!
Alan McGee’s waiting with a pint in his hand,
Toastie’s gig at the White Gates, now that’s the plan.”
*(Verse 2)*
Twinstown’s at their wits' end, fed up with Big Daddy’s schemes,
Every gig, every promise, just shattered dreams.
Sound engineer Robin, with a jackdaw on his arm,
Digging into Wembley, causing more alarm.
The bird’s pecking fans, cries echo in the night,
Twinstown’s boiling over, ready for a fight.
Big Daddy’s pacing, still barking commands,
But Twinstown’s done, they’re breaking the bands.
*(Chorus)*
And then all hell breaks loose, the chopper's in sight,
El Wapito crashes down, igniting the fight.
Joe Graham snaps, camera flying wild,
Dave Barr’s mid-selfie, screaming like a child.
Noel’s venom hits the mic, his patience worn thin,
“F*** this, Big Daddy, you’re never gonna win!
Alan McGee’s waiting with a pint in his hand,
Toastie’s gig at the White Gates, now that’s the plan.”
*(Bridge)*
Ann Togher storms the stage, poem clutched tight,
But the wind steals her words, lost to the night.
Frustration boiling, she snatches Noel’s guitar,
Plotting to sell it for a kilo, she’s going too far.
Twinstown’s drowning in this chaos and rage,
The night’s falling apart, nothing can save the stage.
*(Outro)*
The night spirals down, music’s drowned by the noise,
Twinstown’s done playing, no longer Big Daddy’s toys.
As Noel walks off, Ann’s grip on the guitar,
Wembley’s wrecked, they’ve all gone too far.
Big Daddy’s raging, Robin’s still digging away,
But tonight’s a lost cause, nothing more to say.
So don’t look backside in anger, let it fade,
For the music’s been twisted, and the damage is made.
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