Songs

This is the next installment of my posting some of my writing. This time I thought I'd turn to song lyrics, as I write a lot of those. I also have the melodies and a rough sound for them in my head, but with no musical talent at all I have no way of performing them. Make up your own melodies and sounds, it'll be fun!

I also try to group my writings to make mini albums, or EPs. I'd a sad thrill, but a thrill nonetheless. I like experimenting with overarching themes. I have several of these groupings, and thought that this was the most appropriate for here (as a lot of it is inspired by my delving into the scene).

I thought I'd give a quick summary and extra thoughts after each song too. Just to mention bits about them, but I won't say exactly what they're about. It doesn't really matter what I think they're about anyway, it's what the reader applies it to that counts.

There are 5 in the grouping. The overall grouping is called Ghosting, the same as song four. Please, enjoy.


Anything you want to be.

Tell me exactly what you want.
I can’t read minds.
I just unlock the doors,
to yours and take a look around.
Mirrors and smoke or
just an illusion?
There’re not the same.
They never were.

I count to four.
All the statues gather round.
They’re curious to know.

I count to three.
The cow is milking the world,
the walls are fluid.

I count to two.
Forget to remember,
remember to forget.

I count to one.
Your mind awakens.
Clarity!

Now!

You can be anything you want to be
and I can make you into anything I want to be
and I can be a teacher a bird and a plane.
You’re Pavlov’s dog to my bell.
I’m a sick little secret you keep in your drawer.
I knock to get out and you always answer.
Demons who dream never forget
to remember, reminder, shower, clothes are wet.

You can be anything you want to be.
You can be anything you want to be.
You can be anything you want to be.
You can be anything you.

I count to four.
I count to three.
I count to two.
I count to one.
Now.

The newest song here. It's probably my least structured too, without a chorus. I imagine it having a very strong bass line, but the section of 8 in the middle which doesn't quite fit sounding suite dreamy. The words, in my head, are sung almost at a whisper.

-as yet untitled-

Oh, there is an out house,
back house, front house, ant house, through-house
to a good life,
bad life, sad life, mad life, hard lines
been a hard life,
great times, ahead, behind
though you need to hide it,
sack it, can it, whack it, fuck it.
Turning mow down,
hoe down, go down, toe down
loading to the down town,
dark town, red lights, red eyes, fed up
turning profits, profits, profits, profits, profits
turning profits, profits to prophets, prophets,
into a saint.

We let you loose in this town.
Let you ride your merry-go round (and round).
You gave your heart for heady days,
losing your mind to the dirty-ways.
We let you ride around town.
Gave you the keys to drive around (and round).
You gave your brain just to be paid.
Fried an egg and lost your way, oh.

You met a sick man,
wise man, old man, cold man, holding
books of riddles,
rules and, duels and, fools and
hooligans and smart men,
sharp men, bright men, gunmen,
hard men in the back ways,
dark days, end days, Sundays, Mondays, Tuesdays
Prophets, profits, prophets, profits, saints and losers,
choosers, musers, abusers, new birds,
leaders turned to fresh meat,
get meat, cooked meat, dead meat, dead beat
got beat in assemblies, libraries, classrooms, stations,
through the estate.

We let you loose in this town.
Let you ride your merry-go round (and round).
You gave your heart for heady days,
losing your mind to the dirty-ways.
We let you ride around town.
Gave you the keys to drive around (and round).
You gave your brain just to be paid.
Fried an egg and lost your way, oh.

We’ve got to go back,
take back, get back, hit back,
break backs till we’re winners,
spinners, grinners, takers, fakers
lots of gainers, waiting, chasing, making,
laking, winning tables,
gambling, losing, drinking, oh.
We’ve got a runner, shower, bleeder, eater,
heeder of the voicemail,
email, she male, breakdancing, female
feeling tied up, made up, wake up, shake up, make-up,
makes you want more, crave more, make more, get more,
you’ve made a saint.

We’ve let you loose in this town…

Oh man, this is a goofy song in my head. I imagine a stupid high pitched voice for the words 'loose', 'ride' and 'keys' in the chorus. The verse does fit, I've made sure of that, but only to a very specific melody. The closest thing I can describe it as being like is the ending section of the Kid A version of Radiohead's 'Morning Bell' with, like I say, a really goofy chorus. Despite having the most words this is also by far the shortest song in terms of time in my head.

Ghosting.

We’ve turned our backs around.
We are ghosting.
Set off and locked the door,
don’t know where we’re going.
Drink to our favourite song.
That’s who we’re being.
Never cared much for Saturday nights,
not that it’s showing.

Never been strange for so long.
Never laughed at my favourite song.
Never told you my secret jokes,
though you knew them all along.
Have a scene or three on me.
That’s enough to know we’ll be
alright in the long run,
we’re alright hun,
now we are ghosting. Ghosting.

Phew, I lost my head there,
got ahead of myself.
But you came for the ride,
penned the books on the shelf.

Never been up for so long.
Can’t see straight or stay strong.
My legs are telling me to run
and jump and dance and carry on.
Shunning friends and family,
shunning graveyards where we’ll be
breathe long and hard,
let down your guard
and we will be ghosting. Ghosting.

California
has me at endings.
Can’t imagine
being headings.
Forcing down their
own attractions,
giving us reasons
to cause factions

and we’ll take off our clothes
and run naked down the roads
till the cars beep their horns
and we laugh till midnight dawns
unless we stay at home instead
and make up stories for our bed.
A ring at the phone:
there’s so many ghosts, there’s so many ghosts.
And we’re back to all-along.
Somewhere I’ve never found.
Somebody’s gonna pay.
Best keep our heads down.

Lost my way there for too long.
Singing aloud our favourite song.
We’ve got the stories for our jokes
and the strength to be wrong.
We lay naked on the beach
so all the normal folks can see,
I’ve got my eye on ya,
California,
man, we are ghosting. Ghosting.

Count to ten and
weave a history.
If they ask
We’ve never met.

But we’ll take of our clothes
and run naked down their roads
until the passers-by can see,
but we’re ghosts,
whatever.

In my head this had a catchy piano tune. This is one of my favourite pieces I've ever written. If I were to sum it up it would be 'kinky nerd love'.

The swing.

There are people to my left
and they matter.
There are people to my right
and they matter.
Your are standing there,
you don’t matter,
not as much as we do
we’re a one, we’re a team

I’m upside down, upside down, upside down,
on the swing, swing.

Mirrors catch a glance,
of my nightmares.
Where I am stood alone,
in my nightmares.
This is why I don’t believe
in nightmares:
just a bunch of
stupid, scary stories

I’m the right-way up, right-way up, right-way up,
on the swing, swing.

Yeah.

I’m caught up in a dream, (Upside.)
maybe,
maybe it’s a lie.
Hard to tell. (Upside.)
I’m fading in and out.
I hear a voice by the pool,
your voice (Down.)
and it pulls me
in and out.
Back again. (Down.)
Wishful thinking.
Drawn to noise,
excitement, wonder.
And that’s you. (Upside.)

Upside down.

Upside down.

Upside down.

I think.

This is inspired by an episode of Louis Theroux I watched one time. I won't say which one cause that will give the game away, though it's not exactly cryptic. I find the words to this song quite funny, but then I know what they're about so neer *sticks out tongue in a childish fashion*.

Coming up for air.

We drifted apart
some time ago now.
That’s alright
because now I feel fine.
I came across
a picture of you.
I didn’t feel sadness,
but rejoiced it had been.

I’m coming up for air.
I’m coming up for air.
I’m coming up for air.
I’m bringing by head up above the water.

We drifted apart,
but I don’t feel loss.
In fact,
I feel quite alright today.
I had to step in,
before I could step back.
Swan in the deep end.
Needing sleep.

I’m coming up for air.
I’m coming up for air.
I’m coming up for air.
I’m bringing my head up above the water.

And though I’m in too far
and can’t step back
I can rise above and look down
at the scene.

I’m coming up for air
(coming up, coming up)
I’m coming up for air
(coming up, coming up)
I’m coming up for air
(coming up, coming up)
I’ve been drowning.
Too much all at once.

Since we drifted apart.
I need escape.
I feel fine.
I came up to catch my breath.

The ending song. I imagine this to be a simple and quite sweet song. Again, it's one of my favourites. I think it's clear and has a nice little meaning to it. Sums up Shosting quite nicely I think.



So there you go! I'd love to hear any comments you may have. All the best!