1. |
Going to Hartlepool
03:39
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~~~~~~~~~~
So I guess it’s true,
You do what you do,
Even when your back hurts.
And living round here,
You’re born with the fear,
You’re born running backwards.
Depends if you’re quick,
Depends if you think,
That you’re gonna prosper.
So I guess it’s true,
You do what you do,
Whatever it costs you.
The curtain is closed,
So onward you go,
A new way of living.
And cold as you are,
It’s never too far,
Back to the beginning.
So I guess it’s true,
You do what you do.
The song that I’m singing,
Was written for you,
But you never knew.
Good on you for grinning.
Harsh wind, how I miss you now.
Sea salt in my lungs and mouth.
Oh, what a glorious way to see.
Oh, what a horrible place to be alone.
Can I have a lift?
Will you grant a wish?
I’ll take any outcome.
A home that you knew,
A home that kept you,
Don’t think that you have one anymore.
So, you’re reading the signs,
As the train rattles by,
Will you ever stop moving?
Take a part of yourself,
Put it up on a shelf,
And crack on with whatever it is you were doing.
Harsh wind, how I miss you now.
Sea salt in my lungs and mouth.
Oh, what a glorious way to see.
Oh, what a horrible place to be alone.
~~~~~~~~~~
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2. |
Going to Redcar
03:23
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~~~~~~~~~~
Met you at Majuba car park.
It’s dead cos the weather is shite.
Too cold even for a lemon top.
How are you always right?
You had so much to unravel.
The wind came and blew it away.
We walked as far as the penguins.
I ran out of things to say.
You say, “You’re never too old to start again.”
Not sure who you’re talking to.
Until I see myself reflected in wet tarmac,
Standing right next to you.
Here’s to the death of ambition.
We all want to do what is right.
I’ve only got enough petrol,
To get past Easterside.
And so I never got to tell you,
All those things I’d planned to say.
Didn’t know that would be the last time we spoke,
Don’t know if I still think that today.
But here’s to the death of a better life,
And to the holding on that you couldn’t do.
Weather’s still shite and it’s still so cold,
Colder still without you.
I don’t want to go to heaven.
I’m not afraid to die.
I just need one more second,
To say goodbye.
~~~~~~~~~~
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3. |
Goat's Rue
03:35
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~~~~~~~~~~
It’s stopped raining,
But it’s still wet.
Conversation,
Has not stopped yet.
There are castles,
In a lake.
And all living things,
Are at stake.
There’s a staircase,
Made of white smoke.
And a shadow of gold,
Where the stairs go.
And at the top there’s a sign,
It says “Take Care.”
And all around is the sky,
And it’s nice there.
There is nothing,
‘Til there is.
And then something,
And then this.
There are valleys,
In your eyes.
And all manner of warmth,
On all sides.
And the days here,
Have no end.
And you’re dancing,
With your friends.
It’s stopped raining.
It’s still light.
Everything will,
Be alright.
~~~~~~~~~~
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4. |
Toadstone
01:36
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~~~~~~~~~~
The mouth of the marsh,
Gapes cordially.
For twelve days and nights this,
Is all that I have seen.
The creaking godwits here,
Laugh at my trials.
Chewing burclover, I,
Trudge the sodden miles.
Between the reedmace gateposts,
A portcullis of rain slams down.
I am inside the antechamber,
And there is silence all around.
The glistering walls,
Reflect the glow,
That draws my aching legs,
To deeper, darker go.
I’ve come so far.
I’ve taken lives.
My mind's a bloodied blade.
My heart, it is a beehive.
Into the bowels of the pit,
I finally look upon my prize.
We all just do the best we can,
To do the least bad in our lives.
So how can it all go so wrong?
~~~~~~~~~~
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5. |
The Back Field
03:37
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~~~~~~~~~~
There used to be a climbing frame shaped like a galleon here.
Sailing high on seas of broken glass and empty 3 litre bottles of Frosty.
I would be the captain of my fate.
But I’m too late.
The tarzy snapped so we started a fire instead.
The smell of exploding Lynx cans and beck water heavy like rivers of smog in the air.
I would forge from flames a new life.
Wouldn’t that be nice?
No future in this industry.
My, my, my, my glass is empty.
My, my, my, my, mine’s a pint.
No future regardless of your work ethic.
My, my, my, my heart is empty.
I, I, I, I, I give up.
~~~~~~~~~~
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6. |
The Execution Bell
02:56
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~~~~~~~~~~
(The ringing of the execution bell.)
You kiss my nose. I kiss you on the chin.
This is how all our arguments begin.
In silence, in total silence and with,
More than the slightest sense of listlessness.
Not forgetting myself.
Accumulated over centuries of waste.
No happy endings and no pleasant aftertaste.
To know you’re here and living well.
A newfound sense of self-worth and the ringing of,
The execution bell.
And if there was another way to be this ungrateful,
I’d write it in my own blood upon your door,
And then sever my tongue so that I could say no more.
The story of a life, a life you lived.
You’re not always right because nobody is.
An ox’s heart, with angel wings.
A broken glass and sixteen thousand other things.
For each a hymn.
A sacred failure, we will not apologise,
For interrupting everybody else’s lies,
With simple songs and lots of wine.
One hand to raise your glass and one eye on the time.
I’m doing fine.
And if there was another way to be this ungrateful,
I’d write it in your own blood upon my door,
And then sell my belongings and put myself under the floor.
~~~~~~~~~~
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7. |
Nostrum
04:16
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~~~~~~~~~~
Nostrum, given to me by my mother.
She knows no remedy can repair me.
But still, her final coins on it were used.
There are things people do that won’t make sense,
To you.
Warm smile in the cloakroom soothes my worry.
No fear, no matter how all consuming,
Will extinguish the light you hold for me.
There are things people do that won’t make sense,
To you.
We’re the poor people they talk about on TV.
We are fighting so hard every second.
Paddling pool in the street, children laughing.
There are things people do that won’t make sense,
To you.
~~~~~~~~~~
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8. |
Wobbly Goblin
03:51
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~~~~~~~~~~
The crumbling epitaph reveals,
How I was built beside the dreadnoughts.
Fuck all good it did for me and mine.
I feed my kids the paradigm.
The endless sea of bad ideas,
Is where I find the strength go on.
Fuck all good it did for me and mine.
I feed my kids the paradigm.
Well I guess, that’s that.
And there I go.
I’m walking home.
I caught fire about 10 years ago.
I have not since had a fixed abode.
All the colour washed away with time.
I feed my kids the paradigm.
The crumbling epitaph reveals,
How I was built beside the dreadnoughts.
Fuck all good it did for me and mine.
I feed my kids the paradigm.
Well I guess, that’s that.
And there I go.
I’m walking home again.
~~~~~~~~~~
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9. |
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~~~~~~~~~~
The heartbroken lioness,
Nuzzling three still shapes.
Tears flow like a stream,
A horrible dream.
Until their padre comes,
And spills his tender breath.
Awoken are the babes,
Jesus saves.
The heartbroken tigress,
Pursuing her offspring’s captor.
Adrenaline coursing fast,
Make it last.
He throws down a hand glass,
Bewildered is the cat.
Betrayed by mother’s love,
Heavens above.
Even in the small hours of small days.
Even when your friends have passed away.
Even when you pray for a brand new dawn.
Life is cruel and so it goes on.
The hounded beaver,
Beating a hasty one.
Stops and turns around,
Hold your ground.
Takes to himself his claws,
Asunder makes his stones.
A weapon made from skin,
Free from sin.
A terrible bird,
The serpent king.
It’s countenance to admire,
You expire.
Vanquished, snuffed and slain,
By a humble mustelid.
Take heed ye of the weak,
And of the meek.
Even in the dark parts of the earth.
Even with the narrowest of berths.
Even when it all starts to go wrong.
Life is cruel and so it goes on.
Even when your heart is burnt and black.
Even when they’re never coming back.
Even as I sing this awful song.
Life is cruel and so it goes on.
~~~~~~~~~~
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10. |
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~~~~~~~~~~
Ska-Run-Ya-Te, where are you?
Brother of the wolves.
Son of the long house.
Haudenosaunee.
At the medicine show,
You lost your teeth and name.
Cures for fever were your wares.
Could not save yourself.
The Church of England has your name.
The Church of England has your grave.
Ska-Run-Ya-Te, please come home,
To the long house.
Ska-Run-Ya-Te, where are you?
Brother of the wolves.
Son of the long house.
Haudenosaunee.
~~~~~~~~~~
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11. |
Art Dealer
02:56
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~~~~~~~~~~
Hi, how are you? I’m an art dealer, art dealer.
I’ll get in my car and I’ll come see you, come see you.
Ten thousand ants swarm on my mountain cornflower.
Cuts on my hands, late is the hour, the hour.
My bowl is full and my hearth is hot, hearth is hot.
Suffering I’ve caused and then forgot, then forgot.
I have debrided the worst of it, worst of it.
Slavering mooncalves I babysit, babysit.
Make me lots of money.
I spill detritus all down myself, down myself.
God of foreboding I crown myself, crown myself.
I rattle round with the best of them, best of them.
Wipe dirt from my cavities with the rest of them.
Tried something new, it went swimmingly, swimmingly.
If you work hard for me, you’ll achieve anything.
Come sit thee down, have a glass of wine, glass of wine.
Dreadfully tired but enjoying my leisure time.
Make peace with my glory.
Hi, how are you? I’m an art dealer, art dealer, art dealer, art dealer.
Ah.
~~~~~~~~~~
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12. |
A Gentleman's Honour
03:18
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~~~~~~~~~~
All that white hair.
A Gentleman's honor.
And a long white beard,
Burns up with fever.
And this is artificial moonlight,
An artificial sky.
Horses in the air.
Feet on the ground.
Never seen,
This picture before.
Never seen,
This picture before.
And this is artificial moonlight,
An artificial sky.
Horses in the air.
(Whose baby is this?)
Never seen, never seen,
This picture before.
Horses in the air.
Feet on the ground.
Never seen, never seen,
This picture before.
Horses in the air.
Feet on the ground.
Never seen, never seen,
This picture before.
Never seen, never seen,
This picture before.
~~~~~~~~~~
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13. |
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Platitude Queen Stockton On Tees, UK
Platitude Queen is a folk project by Teesside based musician and certified daft apeth J. S. Gordon (formerly based in Leeds).
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