I'm a songwriter but she [Katie Melua] has her songs written for her... She must think it's her fucking lucky day... It's not like she's singing old songs like Jamie [Cullum], she's singing shit new songs that her manager writes for her.
You should be stronger than me,
But instead you're longer than frozen turkey,
Why'd you always put me in control?
All I need is for my man to live up to his role,
Always wanna talk it through- I'm ok,
Always have to comfort you every day,
But that's what I need you to do - are you gay?
You've got a degree in philosophy,
So you think you're cleverer than me.
But I'm not just some drama queen,
Cos it's where you're at not where you've been.
So what do you expect from me,
To hold your head above the sea?
And there are you even though you're bigger,
Cos don't you know you crush my tiny figure?
And anyway we're still so young
And this isn't yet the day.
I can't help you if you won't help yourself.
I'd rather be at home with Ray,
I ain't got seventy days
Cause there's nothing,
There's nothing you can teach me
That I can't learn from Mr Hathaway.
I didn't get a lot in class
But I know it don't come in a shot glass.
They tried to make me go to Rehab
I said no, no, no
Yes, I've been black, but when I come back
You'll know, know, know!
I ain’t got the time,
And if my daddy thinks I'm fine
Just try to make me go to rehab
I won't go, go, go.
I don't understand,
Why do I stress a man,
When there's so many bigger things at hand.
We could've never had it all,
We had to hit a wall,
So this is inevitable withdrawal.
Even if I stop wanting you
And perspective pushes through,
I'll be some next man's other woman soon.
I couldn't play myself again,
I should just be my own best friend,
Not fuck myself in the head with stupid men.
Then you notice likkle carpet burn
My stomach drop and my guts churn
You shrug and it's the worst
Who truly stuck the knife in first?
I cheated myself like I knew I would
I told you I was trouble, you know that I'm no good
I cheated myself, like I knew I would
I told you I was trouble, yeah you know that I'm no good.
It's okay in the day, I'm staying busy
Tied up enough so I don’t have to wonder, "Where is he?"
Got so sick of crying
So just lately
When I catch myself I do a 180
I stay up, clean the house
At least I'm not drinking
Run around just so I don't have to think about thinking
That silent sense of content
That everyone gets
Just disappears soon as the sun sets
His face in my dreams, seizing my guts
He floods me with dread
Soaked to the soul
He swims in my eyes by the bed
Pour myself over him
Moon spilling in
And I wake up alone.
Wake Up Alone
What kind of fuckery is this?
You made miss the Slick Rick gig.
Me & Mr. Jones
I'll battle this bitter finale,
Just me, my dignity and this guitar case.
Amy Winehouse: Did she invent white soul? Wearing a beehive? No. But she did something brand new and fresh, altogether as a package, and you see who's in her wake, from the Duffys to the Lana Del Reys. Adele selling 20 million records? That would not have happened if Amy Winehouse was alive.
Jack White, Weiner, Jonah (June 5, 2014), "Jack White". Rolling Stone. (1210):52-78
If it wasn't for Amy and Frank, one hundred per cent I wouldn't have picked up a guitar, I wouldn't have written "Daydreamer" or "Hometown" and I wrote "Someone Like You" on the guitar too. Contrary to reports, me and Amy didn't really know each other, we weren't friends or anything like that. I went to Brit School and she went for a little while. But a million per cent if I hadn't heard Frank this wouldn't have happened. I adored her.