For you I’d write a new songMemories of you, they still inspireI’d wrap it up in harmonyGet it delivered by a classical choir For you I’ll set the world on fireAnd given half a chanceWatch you rip the fancy wrappingAnd through the storm clouds watch you dance I walked for miles across the sand dunesThinking
Tag: Guitar
I sent you a letterYou wanted a songThe words didn’t add upYou knew all along You looked back over your shoulderLooked back at the seaWas that for effectOr a last memory? All smiles for the romancersBlack looks for goodIgnoring the needyThe misunderstood You were wearing a blindfoldPut a jigsaw togetherKind of a miracleThough you just
A Zoolon aside: I took a few pics of the Royal Military Canal running through the town of Hythe just up the coast from me the other day. I’d often wondered what the purpose of the canal was/is. I checked out its history. It runs 28 miles more or less parallel to the sea and
‘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
The other day, even though it was silly hot I got up high to the part of the Western Heights where very few people go. This section of the Heights doesn’t overlook the sea, it’s the backside of The White Cliffs and a safe home for the wild things. There’s no call for masks up
The writing was never on the wall It’s got to be epic or nothing at all I heard in the distance a silent call ‘There’s no point in climbing if you can’t take a fall’ Tell that to the dream rescuer Tell that to your beating heart Tell that to the big mouth Who says,
‘Drama’ Most everything we see becomes theatre A wild sea the ocean’s one-night-only stage Up above, storm clouds dancing to the gale’s orchestration And on the shoreline it don’t need any seating to engage An audience of strangers who never bought a ticket This show, the dark clouds have put it on for free Eyes
‘Charleville-Mézières Poster Display’ I guess like any art form sometimes you have to look back to places where creativity came easy – back to when words and melody were best mates – to when a hat full of songs pretty much created themselves. Looking back at photos of personal memories and things that made you
‘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
‘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
