Tag: Composition

HUNTING ALONE

HUNTING ALONE It’s only the endIt’s where you descendWhen you can’t be bothered to speakIt’s a lazy old streetAnd the people you meetAre either just boring or freak ‘What made you this way?’That’s all they can sayBut you don’t want to hear anymoreYou’re out on your ownTimed out and aloneAnd you’re eyes; they just stare

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SHADOWS ON THE SEA

There’s a village not far from me called Capel-le-Ferne. Its name derives from the phrase ‘Chapel in the Ferns’. Proud locals often call it ‘The Village in the Clouds’. The rest of us call it ‘Capel-Le-Fog’ because it’s high up and every so often you can’t see a single thing there when the clouds stop

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THE ECHOES OF DISTANT VOICES

Now the ground is neither a sticky mud bath nor a slippery ice rink accident waiting to happen I went up to the forest on Sunday. Amazing how many trees had fallen down over winter. It’s peaceful up there. WISHFUL THINKING The chatter of the ghostsA haunting silhouetteThe echoes of distant voicesAn orchestral violin quartet

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A SCARECROW ON THE GALLOWS

The lyric below is from my song, ‘Ballerina Dancing’ from 2014. It got good reviews back then but me being me it has never made a published album yet. Right now the song itself is still in demo mode, but not for much longer, so just the words today. I’ve never known loveAnd I’ve never

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THE ART OF FROST – ON CARS

Most days this winter are either freezing cold and rainy, or just plain horribly cold with frost everywhere. Generally the frost is just a white cloak, nothing special. However, yesterday when I thought I’d give the cars – not being used hardly at all because of the lockdown – a run before the batteries die

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THE INVISIBLE UNDEAD

I was up on the cliffs again, this time checking out a place called The Redoubt. I like the emptiness up there. I even got a few words together after the visit, but first I better tell you about the place and its hauntings. “The Redoubt is a fortress that was later reinforced with caponiers

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THAT DAY CAN’T COME TOO SOON

‘Morning Sun on hottest English day’ Nothing matters this side of midnight When fading shadows go chase the moon I hope one day you’ll understand that That day can’t come too soon ‘Empty Bar, Red-hot Day’ I captured visions of the blackness Two dimensions are fine by me Up above hidden stars are restless Until

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PLACES I MISS

‘I swear it is true, the past isn’t dead, it’s alive, it is happening, in the back of my head’ Agnes Obel ‘And if I’m blinded, will my eyes become the planets?’ Aurora Aksnes ‘Each town looks the same to me, the movies and the factories’ Paul Simon ‘Darkness creeps in like a thief and

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I SHUT MY EYES & COUNT TO THREE

‘A long way from home – the first living thing you’ll see’ Written in the first person and based on an interview with a refugee on TV a while back. It stayed with me. I walked from somewhere into nowhere As a lonesome refugee No possessions, but in my pocket Safe and sound, a memory

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BROKEN GLASS

There are no hero’s out tonight, the last one took the late night flight Above the clouds, under the moon, and down below the next typhoon Tomorrow’s not another day, tomorrow I start again – OK? I dreamed of some place far away, where time stands still and echoes betray What’s not made of hate

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