1. |
Thoughts And Memories
04:12
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Deep within their mind
everyone will find
some magic turning chemicals
into cogs that turn and wind
but by this abstraction that makes us think alike,
what do thoughts and memories look like?
Are they crystal spheres
encasing what is dear,
are they rapid clouds that take
the shape of peace and fear,
are they pets that act and do the smiles and frowns you like?
What do thoughts and memories look like?
Do you mind a red
cat purring by your bed,
its fur soft as the lips that gave
you the best kiss you’ve had,
a ball with radiant colours to play with as you like,
are these the thoughts and memories we like?
But if there comes a day,
or better still, a night,
when suddenly your thoughts
start feeling not quite right,
the cloud once up above
becomes a darker grey
and, as you’re driving, lands
on your windscreen, in the way,
the ball gets cold and bloody, and covered all in spikes
and prods you, hurts you so bad you can’t work or sleep at night,
the feline turned a starving beast will wait beside your bed,
and as you lift your eyelids it’ll jump and bite your head,
with drooling fangs it drags you to an insect-covered floor
the bugs will crawl and sting you as you fail to reach the door,
they get inside your mouth and your throat and choke your screams,
until you, overpowered, can’t tell the truth from dreams,
you’re still the same you were before, but there, consumed, you lie,
the one thought left to play with
is the one in which you die.
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2. |
Uncle Pennybags
03:15
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Uncle Pennybags comes to mine
He’s got a proposition I can’t decline
The game he runs will make me mighty fine
He gives me a penny, the rest is a loan
I play on my own and I am the pawn
I’ll figure out the rules, says, off you go
Disconcerted, I play
As people around me keep saying
Some win, some lose, there is no other way
Be watchful, as your eyes go blind
Be charming, as your mouth goes dry
Be savvy, as your brain goes numb
Be a lover, as your heart goes down
I get familiar with the sound of the dice
I trade, I deal, it even feels nice
But it’s nowhere near enough, I must play twice
The rent goes up, I’m kicked out of Brick Lane
By the time I’m in Strand I’m red by 10k,
Just one more chance, no go, I’m thrown in jail
I lost all I had to the game
Yet people keep saying
Some win, some lose, there is no other way
Be watchful, as your eyes go blind
Be charming, as your mouth goes dry
Be savvy, as your brain goes numb
Be a lover, as your heart goes down
The pyramid sits strong on our
Thieving mutual spite,
Unscathed by battles fought with
Hammers, sickles, dynamite,
BURNOUTS and constant worry
Hardly equip us for a war,
We’ll fight with broken bones
United by an uncompromising NO
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3. |
Calais
03:47
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How many shores do I have to imagine
how many ships shall I get on or hide in
and how much salt must dry me to the bone
before I reach a corner to call home
The home I had, I wish I didn’t lose
it was just like the place I’m headed to,
my studies and my books
my girlfriend and my looks
yet someone didn’t want it to endure
I’ve wondered longing in my hiding cell
why these warmongers turned our lives to hell
they say, they follow my own God’s design
they kill to bring the word of the Benign
Ironic, how men want to see the world
as something simple which can be controlled
desire for self-importance
a human God to name chance
they fall like fish in nets, the Gods’ patrol
Their crave for victory is so intense
They fail to see it makes no fucking sense
I long the godless, dull utopia
to live and love, and stay until we die
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4. |
Living With Amelie
03:28
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Silly me, I still falter
Walking in shoes a good few numbers too small
A happy path, yes I falter, but I won’t fall
You’re sweet enough to care about
The near-spent match cast aside on a walkway
Picked up, dried, ignited with blinding energy
I think I should thank you, for the courtesy
I love your dreams, so crazy high,
We know we’ll fall, we’ll know we tried,
I love our schemes to cheat what’s due
Our humble duty is beauty, I love you
Oh, foolish prism of emotions
You drove away the remorse, the regret,
The resentment, the rage, the powerlessness, the neglect
D’you think we’ll pay for it all one day
Or it’s given forever, or found, as it may?
If so, seeing so many in need, let’s give it away
With music, art and beauty, let’s lead them all astray
I love our dreams, so crazy high,
We know we’ll fall, we’ll know we tried,
I love our schemes to cheat what’s due
Our humble duty is beauty, I love you
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5. |
The Bacon Song
02:42
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There comes the fresh and fragrant smell
the morning rain, the pigs can tell
it’ll make the mud just moist enough
to play and have a laugh
They’ll play in all their free-range glory
the gleaming eyes that tell the story
of happy muscle, stored and dried
in the abattoir nearby
Yet one pig smarter than the others
stealing courgettes from his mother
may have sensed that happiness
comes at the expense of someone else
Let’s just be happy
‘cause often we can’t see
when we’re being the men
and when we’ll be the pigs,
and when we’re at it
with all the worries gone
we won’t tell whose meat we’re feasting on
Perhaps this is by natural law
just like the cycle of Carnot
for all the joy and life we clutch
we’re stealing twice as much
And even leaving meat alone
you’ll still consume some to the bone,
yes, in the form of rubbish roasts
or vegan Facebook posts
Perhaps, as we discuss this gripe
the pigs have got it figured out
and offer us their juicy ribs
as keenly as sacrificial wonderpigs
Let’s just be happy
‘cause often we can’t see
when we’re being the men
and when we’ll be the pigs,
and when you’re on it
you’ll be too busy to
notice what the others did for you
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6. |
Meaning Of Art
03:21
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Soft lights, white walls, quick shallow words
on depth and composition,
the wall paint smell of an art exhibition
A young blonde lady stops
at something ‘bit unusual
a somewhat edgier, brighter-coloured Bruegel
and she
looks beyond the silly shapes
she feels she can relate, says to
the artist standing by, “Why do you paint this way?”
“My shapes are meant to hide
What I don’t want you to see
Art masks my mediocrity”
He went, “The spoiled child I was
was said to be quite smart,
a doctor, scientist, not a son of Art
but as I started school, I first
got looked upon by girls,
and I found out the beta male I was,
I’m lucky
I picked up a brush before
a needle or a joint,
so I could paint my blues away, and that’s the point
My shapes were meant to hide
What I didn’t want to see
Art masked my mediocrity
“What d’you think this represents?”
He pointed, she replied
“An endless struggle searching for the light?”
“It is one way to put it,
but the title may well say:
‘Frustration after forty failed dates’
You’ll never
fool a woman into thinking
you’re a caring man,
it’s far easier to try and make of her your fan
My shapes are meant to hide
What I don’t want you to see
Art masks my mediocrity”
“If you art has no other reason,
Can’t you just do other stuff?”
“I could but, frankly, I can’t get enough.
The brush’s my needle and my joint
and in the time I could
have become a doc or prof I just got hooked
I’d die for
a fryup for two
and a shopping afternoon
a job of social use
and most of all I’d die for you,
but I’ve replaced desire with yellow,
love with red and peace with blue,
how can I quit the frame of mind that gets me through”
At that, she had to go
and barely said goodbye
“Oh well, there goes another one...” he sighed
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Virgult London, UK
London-based Italian guitar player, wannabe singer, mad scientist and digital music
tinkerer.
I keep being fascinated by anything the guitar can produce. The "little orchestra" just never ceases to amaze: jazz, blues, grooves, intricate layers, percussion, feelings, soundscapes. I strive to discover the marvel that is solo music making, piece by piece.
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