- Spinning Coins
- Some kind of Fracas
- Of Kith and Kin
- Cash
- Built from Scratch
- Attar of Roses
- This is Showbiz
- Reboot
- Black Ice
- The Kid
- Glass
- 2 Views
- Means to an End
- Slippery Slope
Spinning Coins
"Look" she said, "there's somebody else."
Long ago and far away
I didn't know quite where to put myself
or what to say.
Life could have been quite different
if I'd been eloquent that day
but I could find no coherent words...
I walked away.
In tiny things we discover that
all the dots of life are joined
by the outcomes of randomness,
of spinning coins.
Some kind of Fracas
It was some kind of fracas,
it came out of nothing,
blew up in my face.
Some kind of fracas,
a misunderstanding,
a word out of place.
Some kind of fracas
in the back office,
it blew up in my face
like a firework.
It was bad luck, it happens...
I found myself there:
wrong time, wrong place.
I found myself there,
wrong time and wrong place.
I found myself there.
Of Kith and Kin
From a distance the coast looks clear...
drawing closer, I choke the tears back.
So many stories have unravelled down the years
and what remains, what's left before me
is the pricking of the thumbs, the needles and pins...
the thinning-out begins
of kith and kin.
Time and tide, all that's washed away,
empty postures and lost connections
to memory's echoes, in the end all that endure
are single words and gestures.
All the stories we've served grow serially thin:
the walls are falling in
on kith and kin.
Witness to the times,
which one of us survives?
Scraped-out pages of scribbled scrawl,
blunted nibs as the devil drives us,
while mere survival makes a mockery of us all
until the last one standing
cracks the code that we're all carrying within,
imprinted on the skin
of kith and kin.
From a distance the coast looks clear,
drawing closer I choke the tears back.
So many stories have unravelled down the years
and what remains, what's left before me
is the pricking of the thumbs, the needles and pins...
the thinning-out begins
of kith and kin.
Witness to the times,
which one of us survives?
Cash
He's a big fish in a little pond,
keen on making a splash
while remaining untraceable.
If in doubt he always pays in cash
Every check-point he's passed through
every record he's smashed
has a value in currency.
If in doubt he always takes the cash,
simple as that.
The surevillance that's onto him
brings him out in a rash.
To maintain his tramsparency
if in doubt he always takes the cash.
He's a big fish in a little pond
and he's quite unabashed
in maintaining liquidity.
If in doubt he always takes the cash,
siomple as that.
Built from Scratch
Instrumental
Attar of Roses
Instrumental
This is Showbiz
For sure it came as a surprise,
out of the corner of my eye,
totally unexpected,
I saw your face in the crowd.
I felt as tired as tired could be,
used up my every drop of energy
just getting through the livelong day,
somehow I'll find a way top make it pay.
Totally unexpected,
I see your face in the crowd.
If I'm allowed I'll celebrate the song.
The only time is now,
the show must carry on.
You don't get ill, though your friends will, this is showbiz.
You don't get ill, you're not roadkill, this is showbiz.
You don't get ill, hold your head still, this is showbiz.
You don't get ill, pop the will pill, this is showbiz.
This is showbiz, you don't get ill,
somehow you've got to see it through;
now you've clawed your way to the top of the bill
everbody's waiting for you.
For sure it comes as a surprise,
I've found a strength my weedy frame belies.
If I'd not made it here tonight
I'd not have seen you in this shining light.
Totally unexpected,
I saw your face in the crowd.
Reboot
Reboot
and start again.
The system's frozen into lockdown.
Reboot
and count to ten.
God knows I hope this process sin't shot down.
Reboot,
retry and then
stay close to where your aching heart is.
Reboot,
restart it.
Black Ice
Nobody's second guess'll get to surpass you
in your over-estimation of your innate worth
and your natural virtue
but someone's hear to bend your ear with a quiet word.
Best pay attention, you'll get no better advice:
clamp on the crampons, riding for a fall tonight.
Get a grip, this slippery slope you stand on
is a sheet of black ice.
Now the rush of blood's gushing in upon you
in slow motion you strain to maintain your poise.
The red carpet reception
a clear spotlight affair that you can't avoid.
Forward projection, everyone here seems so nice.
Handbags and gladrags, milk the applause tonight.
Geta grip, this starry stair you're cliimbing's
built on blocks of black ice.
There's no safety net ready there to catch you
and your overstated case has unravelled fast.
This is no perfect playground
though stardom's accidental moment has been a blast.
You try to get a grip
but the hipster trip's undone you,
you're skidding on the black ice.
The Kid
And the kid walks up to the stage
with his innocence shining,
eager to join the parade of the damned.
Bearing his confidence lightly,
wearing his heart on his sleeve,
shares out his passion twice nightly
and he begs us to casr and believe.
The kid's quickly turning the page
while the juices are flowing,
no assurance he gave worth a damn.
Playing the room like a trouper,
maybe it's gone to his head.
Fame takes him up as a suitor...
the kid gladly climbs ijn her bed.
Call it a Faustian deal
but the demons that chase him are real enough.
The kid at the front of the stage gathers all the attention,
help that he hired has been paid off in full.
Sweeps up the laurels and plaudits,
it seems they're no more than his due.
A price will be paid in the audit
but the kid never thought such things through.
The kid's terrified of the stage
with his innocence tarnished,
buries himself in ahazy half-life.
Fame's a vindictive and unyielding lover...
hiding away on his own,
the kid's not the first to discover
applause can't sustain you alone.
Call it a Faustian deal
but the demons that chase him are real enough.
Everything he touched is broken,
everything is damned
and he's running away from the stage
just as fast as he can.
Glass
Instrumental
2 Views
Only fleeting, our residence here,
our passage transitory,
waiting out time in our rented rooms,
rooms with two views.
The room that you leave's
not the same one you entered,
while the time that you spent in betweens'
bedded down with the sheets.
Look forward,
don't look back.
Have no regrets, dear.
Behind you clouds are black
but look, the skies ahead are clear.
Means to an End
Instrumental
Slippery Slope
Instrumental