Remembering old lyrics

I wrote these about 6 or 7 years ago, the first few lines (and some of the latter ones) were loosely inspired by a friend, then went off on a twisted tangent and created (I think) quite an interesting character.  The song is recorded on cassette somewhere and is pretty jolly sounding, I reckon I will re-work it and perhaps further develop the character.

Eyes of jade and teeth of gold

memories that stay untold

and you seem old

but you're not old

secrets that you keep

and melodies run deep

we never really know if you're joking

or seriously taking the piss

have you been touched by genius?

or is there something amiss? 

open shirted you're perverted

you converted was it worth it?

was she dirty, really dirty?

symphonies of lies

your glamorous disguise

and we'll never really know if you meant it

if life was a game in your mind

creating a vacuous intensity

was simply a way to unwind 

Two lines

There are two lines that is certain

I know where the first one is in relation to the notion of time

'from the moment you are born you are dying'

my mother told me as a young child

(no wonder I have pessimistic tendencies)

it is true in a sense though perhaps not the most sensible thing to say to someone at such an impressionable age.

Anyway, negativity aside - hidden under long forgotten toys in the bottom of the toy box in the house I still mythologise in waking life as well as dreams.  I haven't lived there for over twenty years but it seems some part of me never actually left.  I'm not getting to the point still, always meandering, forever losing my thread and lord knows where the needle is (hiding with the rats in amongst the bails?).  We are all going in the same direction just like Damien Hirst's dead shark in formaldehyde, all swimming towards that line, where we are in relation to the two lines remains a mystery, until we reach that second line.  Like undulating clusters of cells we are merely moving forward through time and space whether that be aimlessly drifting, racing along at high speed or in between.  Paths are followed, choices are made, some of us endlessly fight to control and some of us don't, we all experience things that are good and bad, each of us changes and grows in relation to all of this even if we don't realise or show it outwardly.  It is part of the human experience to think about that second line, and indeed what happens next, whether there is a third, a fourth, could it be infinite?  Like when you connect a camcorder to a television and film the screen.  Watching Being Human is reassuring - even though I know it is just a TV programme, I like the way they tackle the fundamental issues and kidding myself that it is right even though it is momentary and on a surface level makes me smile.  

flavours of ice cream

A song I wrote at the end of last year with a little help from a French friend who translated for me (my French is only basic so an expert was required).

Another interpretation of a song by another - Jealous guy

I played a similar version of this at a John Lennon tribute night in December last year so I thought why not record it live at home and share.  I originally rehearsed the song to involve more strumming of guitar than this however nerves got to my fingers on the night of the performance resulting in it being a somewhat sparser affair, this turned out to be a happy accident hence this.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dIkmfgGpOrM

Another melancholy new year

So we sat there sipping our mediocre chocolate drinks

a comfortable silence due to mutual fatigue, disillusion, blankness...

I notice all the cakes and other sweet sugary 'delights' lined up neatly in the glass cabinet

'what a waste, no one will buy all of those, this town is not the place for an Americanised chain like this'  I think to myself.  'what a negative bastard I am today, and  now I am feeling pity for the woman behind the counter who is painstakingly slicing a cheesecake into segments; heating the knife in hot water for a minute or so, wiping away excess water with a standard disposable blue cloth then placing the blade in the correct position before pressing down hard making sure she has sliced all the way through, wiping the knife and repeating the entire process.  She has a soundtrack to her task and she sings along occasionally - 'he aint heavy he's my brother'  Just then the company I am with cuts through my focus on the cake slicing and comments on the song with regard to the lyric 'he aint in heaven he's my brother'  I explain to him what the lyrics actually are then concur that had the line actually been what he thought it was, it would indeed be a pretty negative song, pondering that it could almost be suggested that the brother is 'down there' rather than in heaven, we both chuckle slightly then return to our separate silent bubbles.  Perhaps the lady slicing the cake enjoys her job and her boss is a joy to work with, perhaps she never wonders what the point of it all is, perhaps spending her days serving mass produced coffee and cakes to the public who most likely cannot afford it is enough for her.  Maybe I am the fool for endlessly thinking and questioning and never feeling satisfied with anything.  If only I could spend a few months of the year in hibernation, sleep is my salvation and the only place I ever really want to be, so much more than a verb I use to recharge my dying batteries.  In dreams mistakes don't matter, self doubt melts away and anything is possible.