BARD RECORDS

Tag: Same Streets

  • Same Streets

    Same Streets

    Released 01 May 2026

    Different Day

    Some weekends are remembered.
    Most are simply lived.

    Friday Queue brings together three snapshots of ordinary life after the working week ends. One person is still delivering takeaways while everyone else is heading out. Another is still awake long after midnight with little more than a cold cup of tea and a glowing phone for company. Somewhere in between, tomorrow always feels like the day everything will finally get sorted. Rather than chasing big moments, the EP finds its stories in the routines, conversations and quiet hours that so often pass unnoticed.

    TRACKS

    Select any track to read the lyrics and listen to the recording.

    1. Can’t Be Arsed
    2. Still Up
    3. Friday Queue
    ALBUM NOTES

    Same Streets captures the quieter side of the weekend. Between late-night takeaway shifts, aimless scrolling long after midnight and the promise that tomorrow will be the day everything finally gets sorted, these three songs celebrate the ordinary moments that so often pass unnoticed. There’s no grand message here, just familiar routines, recognisable people and the strange comfort of realising you’re probably not the only one living them.

    ← Fizzy Veins

  • Still Up

    Still Up

    Some nights don’t need fixing.
    They just need finishing.

    Still Up captures the strange space between deciding to go to bed and actually getting there. Nothing dramatic happens. The phone keeps scrolling, the tea goes cold, another bus passes outside and another hour quietly disappears. Like much of Different Day, the song finds comfort in an ordinary moment that almost everyone recognises but rarely talks about.

    ► BUY
    WORDS

    Still up, phone lighting up the room,
    Didn’t notice it got this late that soon.
    Same video’s been looping for a while,
    Don’t even like it, just killing time in style.

    Texted half a line, left it unsent,
    Cold tea in the mug, half forgotten, half spent.
    Ceiling’s got that one crack I know,
    Counting the tiles while the night moves slow.

    Could get up, make some tea,
    Or watch the streetlights flicker across the street.
    Everything’s paused, nothing feels new,
    Just sitting here is enough to do.

    Still up, still here,
    Lights on across the flats, I can see them clear.
    Nothing’s breaking, nothing’s gone wrong,
    Just the same night and a half-forgotten song.

    Still up, still here,
    Phone in my hand, scrolling like a gear.
    I don’t move, don’t need to pretend,
    Guess I’ll be fine until the morning again.

    Bus passes slow, headlights spill on the street,
    I count the ones that pass while I stay in my seat.
    Microwave beeped, tea’s gone cold,
    Another song on shuffle, same playlist, same old.

    Half a thought drifts, I shrug and sigh,
    Look at my empty plate, leave it by.
    Another scroll through memes and feeds,
    Small victories counted in tiny deeds.

    Could get out, see the sun rise,
    Or let the shadows play tricks on my eyes.
    Nothing moves, everything’s still,
    And just sitting here is quietly a thrill.

    Still up, still here,
    Lights on across the flats, I can see them clear.
    Nothing’s breaking, nothing’s gone wrong,
    Just the same night and a half-forgotten song.

    Still up, still here,
    Phone in my hand, scrolling like a gear.
    I don’t move, don’t need to pretend,
    Guess I’ll be fine until the morning again.

    Thoughts come slow, nothing new,
    Kettle’s done, tea’s gone too.
    Night drifts on, quiet and alive,
    Small noises around me keep me awake inside.

    Still up, still here,
    Lights on across the flats, I can see them clear.
    Nothing’s breaking, nothing’s gone wrong,
    Just the same night and a half-forgotten song.

    Still up, still here,
    Phone in my hand, scrolling like a gear.
    I don’t move, don’t need to pretend,
    Guess I’ll be fine until the morning again.

  • Friday Queue

    Friday Queue

    Friday nights look different
    depending which side of the counter you’re on.

    Friday Queue follows the people who spend their weekends delivering everyone else’s. Between takeaway orders, late-night shifts and the hope that there’s still enough energy left for one drink afterwards, the song captures the routine shared by thousands of workers every Friday evening. Like much of Different Day, it finds humour and honesty in the ordinary lives that quietly keep everything else moving.

    ► BUY
    WORDS

    Yeah… another one.
    Queue’s already long, innit.

    Twenty-three, bike lights flickering again,
    Phone at 12%, battery’s on its last leg.
    Order number 47, cold chips in the rain,
    Some posh flat in the new builds that all look the same.
    Manager texts: “Can you do a double?”
    I say yeah ’cause rent don’t pay itself, trouble.
    Sweat through the hoodie, gloves got holes in the fingers,
    Smell of vinegar and regret on my trainers.

    Clock says ten, eyes say midnight,
    Still two more drops before I even think about pints.

    Friday queue, I’m back in the queue,
    Bag on my back and the same shitty view.
    We laugh about it, what else can we do?
    Friday queue — see you in the queue.

    Shift ends at three, legs proper dead,
    Mate’s already at the offy getting cans instead.
    Tenner in my pocket after fuel and the fine,
    Still enough for entry if the bouncer don’t mind.
    We stand in the smoking area talking absolute shit,
    About bosses and exes and “one day we’ll quit”.
    Nobody believes it, nobody cares,
    We just neck the drinks and pretend we’re not scared.

    I keep saying next month I’ll sort my life out proper,
    But the rota drops and I’m back on the roster.

    Friday queue, still in the queue,
    Sweat and the bass and the same fucking tune.
    We laugh about it, what else can we do?
    Friday queue — stuck in the queue… again.

    Yeah… another one.
    See you next Friday.

  • Same Streets EP Released

    Same Streets EP Released

    Fizzy Veins - Same Streets
    Still Up PROMO
  • Can’t Be Arsed

    Can’t Be Arsed

    Tomorrow always sounds
    like a really productive day.

    Can’t Be Arsed isn’t really about laziness. It’s about the strange comfort of putting things off while quietly knowing they’ll still be there tomorrow. Gym memberships, job applications, unopened protein powder and well-meaning advice all become part of the same routine, where every plan feels reasonable until it’s time to actually start. Like much of Different Day, the song finds humour in ordinary British life without pretending the joke isn’t sometimes on us.

    ► BUY
    WORDS

    Yeah… suppose I should get up at some point.

    Alarm’s been going off since half ten,
    I’m still scrolling reels in the same joggers again.
    Job listings say “ambitious self-starter”,
    I laugh, close the tab, roll another one after.
    Gym membership’s active, payment went through,
    Haven’t been since January, truth.
    Got the protein powder sitting on the side,
    Still unopened, best before’s last July.

    I know I should, I really do,
    But the sofa’s warm and the day’s half through.

    Can’t be arsed today, maybe tomorrow,
    Put it on the list with the rest of my sorrow.
    Can’t be arsed, leave it for now,
    World keeps spinning, I’ll figure it out… somehow.
    Can’t be arsed, turn the volume up,
    Let the breakbeat drown the shoulda-woulda stuff.
    Can’t be arsed, it’s fine, it’s cool,
    I’ll sort it next week after I finish this school… of thought.

    Mum rings, asks if I’ve applied for that thing,
    I say “working on it”, which is technically lying.
    Got the CV open in another tab,
    Cursor blinking like it’s judging me bad.
    Mate’s doing overtime, building his credit,
    I’m watching boxsets, eating cold pizza in bed.
    I tell myself it’s just a phase, relax,
    But it’s been three years and I’m still on this track.

    Deep down I know the clock’s ticking loud,
    But right now the duvet’s winning by knockout.

    Can’t be arsed today, maybe next year,
    Add it to the pile of shit I hold dear.
    Can’t be arsed, leave it alone,
    Breakbeats still hit and I’m still at home.
    Can’t be arsed… yeah I know it’s sad,
    But at least the groove’s still proper bad.

    Tomorrow.
    Definitely tomorrow.