1. |
A303
06:34
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A303
Deep up to my elbows in Victorian shit
Trying to remember why I got involved with this
Then finding my first Roman coin at the bottom of a pit
And getting into trouble for going home with it
Weeks and months spent learning
How to tell the tell-tale signs
Of hand-flaked flint from Neolithic mines
And hours spent marking out medieval boundary lines
When you’re driving on the A303
I wonder if you’ve ever had the same thoughts as me
Fascination mixed with irony
Taking pictures with my mobile phone
Of piles of ancient stone
Walking through the landscape noting every bump and ditch
Picking up an old bone and kind of knowing which end is which
Sifting through soils and sending samples to the lab
Analysing the final meal some long-dead person had
Cataloguing every little detail of the past
Continually in denial that everything crumbles at last
And constantly reminded life is fragile.... and fast.
And so Palmyra’s mainly standing still – but the people are all gone
Herded off like cattle – too exhausted to run
After months between the psychopaths and the barrel bombs
The streets are all deserted now as the media circus comes.
But I can’t help wondering what it must be like for those
Who turn one final time to face the ruins of their homes
To know the world’s more interested in piles of ancient stones
When you’re driving on the A303
Perhaps next time you’ll have the same thoughts as me.
At the coach-loads of Americans, French, Japanese and you and me
All taking pictures with our mobile phones
of piles of ancient stones.
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2. |
Butter Side Down
05:00
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BUTTER SIDE DOWN
How many angels dance on the point of a pin?
Can I confess my sins and then just go and do them all again?
Is this wine or is this blood?
What did Noah do with all the fish in the flood?
You want to eat meat? On Friday? Eat a beaver -– it’s a fish.
Spots on your skin? Burn your neighbour as a witch.
Broken mirror? Touch some wood.
Thou shalt not kill –... unless the Pope says killing’’s good.
A Universe created with a word
Celestial spheres encircling the Earth
And holes in the spheres letting Heaven’s light through...
And there’’s a place in Paradise for you.
But first you have some suffering to do.
Which came first – the chicken or the egg?
Why are cat’s noses dry and dog’s noses wet?
Could monkeys, given time infinite,
really write Romeo and Juliet?
Does a tree in the desert fall without a sound?
If everything always travels half the distance,
how does rain reach the ground?
And still nobody knows
Why the toast falls butter-side down.
A Universe with no beginning and no end
You head off in a straight line
and then you come back round again.
And there’’s a hurricane that’s born on a butterfly’s wing
And a box with a German cat within
That’’s both dead and alive ....
Till you look in
A Universe both benign and depraved
Light that’s both a particle and a wave
And all of us – from the cradle to the grave
Find that the ground on which we stand...
The ground on which we choose to take our stand...
Feels less and less like safe solid land
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3. |
The Other Side
05:08
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She uses her feet to feel for the ledge
And then she opens her eyes and peers right over the edge
Somewhat surprised at the ideas running round in her head
When just a few hours ago, she was safe and warm in bed
She’s not the kind to go dicing with death
And she knows this is something she might live to regret
As she leans forward and takes the step
He hears his own voice over and over again saying
“There’s always a choice – at least till you get right to the end.
And when you get there, there’s no point in trying to pretend
That you were never aware that it was always in your power to mend”
Words are not set in stone. Meanings twist and bend.
And it’s nobody’s fault but your own if the message didn’t get sent.
Promises are like ropes: they can always bee untied
When you find that all your dreams and hopes all lie on the other side.
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4. |
Joni Mitchell's Guitar
04:02
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Joni Mitchell’s Guitar
White lines on the road keeping travellers apart – moving two directions
Some have maps – others are just following their heart.
There are lines in my life radiating from one place
Where I keep returning just to find out that I still need to escape.
“The Wolf That Lives In Lindsey” is playing in my car
And the crazy chain of chords reminds me of places near and far
Where I’ve lived and loved, to the background of
Joni Mitchell’s guitar.
Shining lines of atoms linking up to sing
While fingers press and pluck and slide up and down those strings
Like the lines in your hand – some say they can read the plot
Looking forwards to the future and back to things that even time forgot.
Marlene, under Foster-Grants, still shimmers into life
As steel and vocal chords combine to cut through like a surgeon’s knife
That heals – but leaves a scar.
Joni Mitchell’s guitar.
Don Juan’s reckless daughter wished for wings to fly over this raging water
But this time the river is too wide.
And we’ve all heard the last of
Joni Mitchell’s guitar.
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5. |
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An Arbitrary Line
I was pretty good at school, but I was nobody’s fool
All my friends were that much thicker
Cos you need people who can fight, and stand by your side
When you’re “sensitive” ... and your Dad’s a vicar.
When the jocks picked the teams, they never picked me
Or the fat boy we called Twiggy.
But they soon came round when later on they found
It was always me who had the ciggies.
They try to define some arbitrary line using logic that’s paper-thin
If you’re strong or weak, cool or a geek – and if you’re out or in.
I was singing in a club, in a room above a pub where the people loved tradition
Where they thought original songs were intrinsically wrong
And guitars – pure sedition!
It soon became clear that I wasn’t even near to their idea of folk
So I stuck my finger in my ear, and gave them Britney Spears...
But they didn’t like the joke.
They try to define some arbitrary line using logic that’s paper-thin
If you’ve got the right type of harp, or the nod from Cecil Sharpe – and if you’re out or in.
Arriving on a beach that’s taken weeks to reach. Hungry cold and frightened.
To be met by walls and populist calls for the borders to be tightened.
And then to turn the police on refugees and try to send them back
Is a crime, and a stain on the country’s name
And there’ll be consequences to that.
They try to define some arbitrary line using login that’s paper-thin
How an accident of birth decides the ownership of earth
And who gets out or in.
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6. |
12
05:28
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12
If I’d done what my father did
All those years ago
Any child of mine would now be 12 years old.
And I would do no better –
I wouldn’t have a clue
My Daddy didn’t help me
He didn’t show me what to do
And yet I always knew
That he wanted to.
I wonder what my father thought
Back when I was 12
Round about the age I found a new name for myself.
Did he think that I could fight it
With God and good?
My Daddy didn’t speak to me
In words I understood.
And yet I always felt
That if he could he would.
And when I see my father now
It’s like looking at myself
I’m more like him now
Than like myself at 12
Does he look at me and see
A life he never knew?
I couldn’t help my Daddy.
I couldn’t show him a way through.
God, I hope he knew
That I wanted to.
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7. |
Aleppo
03:33
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8. |
Elizabeth
04:20
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Elizabeth
Elizabeth believes that if she prays hard enough
She will never be parted from the people that she loves
Though it’s not like many still stay in touch
But then, Elizabeth doesn’t pray all that much.
Elizabeth’s alarm goes off at half past six
And she shuffles in her slippers to get the Weetabix
And then she flicks through her Google Mail
Elizabeth is proud of the company she founded
With the £20 000 her grandmother endowed.
She’s expand if the banks would allow
But business isn’t great just now.
Elizabeth expects a level of respect
That in her humble opinion, she very rarely gets
From her employees in their bright saris
And their minimum salaries.
Elizabeth meets friends at loose ends at weekends
And she has a Christmas card list of all the people that she sends
Her What I Did This Year letter to.
And she doesn’t think it’s nice to call it sacrifice
When in a heartbeat she’d do the same thing twice
And although she’ll admit
She’s had to pay a price
Elizabeth lets down her hair...
And lets early Joni Mitchell fill the air.
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9. |
Actors
04:10
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Actors
We thought they’d turned a page.
It’s hard to believe we could be so naive
In this day and age.
The dice were loaded.
The cards were stacked.
Two steps forward and three steps back
As they moved across the stage
Like actors
With delusions of free-will
While from the wings
The ones pulling the strings
Were the usual suspects
With their hands in the till.
Where they’ve always stood
And where they’re standing still.
Like actors
We repeat the same lines
Taking all our cues and tips
From the ones writing the scripts
While the monsters they created
To keep us true to the cause
Have set fire to the theatre
And bolted all the doors.
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10. |
The Longest Night
05:31
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The Longest Night
Yes I think I do OK
I work pretty hard but I still find time to play.
And when I hear bad jokes I laugh anyway.
Because it’s no skin of my nose...
And it might make someone’s day
But as the nights draw in
The leaves fall and the birds take wing
And we turn back the clocks...
On the longest night of the shortest day
Moon out of sight behind the clouds and rain
I wish that somehow you’d been able to stay
For the longest night and the shortest day.
Yes I think I doing fine
I fill my days to kill my time.
I’ll meet up with old partners in crime
And we’ll share a joke
And a bottle of wine.
But as the world falls asleep
And the road ahead seems so long and steep
And we turn back the clocks...
On the longest night of the shortest day
Moon out of sight behind the clouds and rain
I wish that somehow you’d been able to stay
For the longest night and the shortest day.
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11. |
Fremington Beach
04:09
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Fremington Beach
If you take a walk on Fremington Beach
There’s a patch of ground that the tide doesn’t reach
And a pile of stones like a pterodactyl’s nest
In the spot where Kenny like to rest
And where those who loved him most
Gathered on this stretch of coast.
Wooden hearts and plastic toys
All bleached in the sun
Unprotected and exposed, and untouched by anyone
A teddy bear and an old fir-cone
Silver bells and a garden gnome
All transformed by this work of art
To melt this hardened cynic’s heart.
And as if our lives had somehow merged
I found his name with a Google search.
A sudden stroke at 62
Took this husband, father, grandfather too.
And the hole he left in their lives is shown
By this little pile of stones.
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12. |
All These Miles
00:54
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You and I never ever tell the truth
to each other,
cease to hide (undercover)
behind smiles
You know I will recover
soon enough
And find another
If I can be bothered
After all these miles
You and I never seriously
Thought that we
Could ever really fall in love
Through these trials
You and I
Never had a hope in hell
Of winning through
against the odds
After all these miles
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Greg Hancock Exeter, UK
Singer/songwriter and guitarist based in Devon, England.
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