1. |
The Daily Grind
02:34
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Brew the tea, and the porridge too
Glance at the grey, and wish it was blue - I'd
Rather be waking by the coast
Instead of dousing cremated toast
Fortified against the gale
To set off for the morning trail
My daily grind will make my day
When the barista brings my soy latte
The dream career you had in mind
Is what I do
With the daily grind
All these pastries cost a bomb
And the TwitBook Massive do go on
The indefensible to defend
While one more pop-star bucks a trend
I blinked round half-past-ten, and swear
That hipster changed his facial hair
The day-job calls, with dreams of wealth
This famous blog won't write itself
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2. |
Friday Street
03:20
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The April sun is in my head
As on these paving slabs I tread
On Friday Street
My cappucino's hot today
The morning's bound to go my way
On Friday Street
From the station's mouth, commuters stream
I ride the surf and greet the team
'Cos eight hours more, and this road's sure to
Speed me into Saturday...
The leaves are jingling in the trees
And starlings pipe up harmonies
On Friday Street
The passers-by conceal they're keen
For a flash-mob song-and-dance routine
On Friday Street
My colleagues ask if someone's humming
But I recall the weekend's coming
One more meeting - 2pm! - and
Work can hang for two whole days...
The trains that end the weekly churn
Wish they could take an unplanned turn
Down Friday Street
Step from the squeeze, I'm exit-bound
And feel the weekend-buzz around
On Friday Street
A quick stop at the noodle-bar
Before I reach my door at last
I heard someone tell me
"Staying-in's the new going-out..."
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3. |
Last Minute
03:28
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Take a breath
And feel the air
Around you
Value this
Moment that's
Allowed you
Blink and then
It's empty space
In sky of blue
Take a seed
Back from the breeze
Make it grow for you
A minute can
Be nothing or
Eternity
The difference may
Lie in the things
You choose to see
Blink and then...
Moments draw near
As fleeting as rain
Moments flow away
And never seen again
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4. |
Lady Jane
03:34
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5. |
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[instrumental]
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6. |
Autumn Anorak
03:17
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When the conkers start to plummet
I head home at a run; it
Is time to grab a punnet
For blackberries
With the bramble jelly bubbling
On the hob, it's somewhat troubling
The pace of time is doubling
Towards winter
Some call me an autumn anorak
You won't take that badge of honour back
As leaves turn brown and fall
I don't miss July at all
Clear the foliage by the sack
A true card-carrying
Autumn anorak
A sycamore-seed helicopter
Can lead me to adopt a
Pose to catch and not to drop the
Spinning prize
I'll wave a greeting to November
With a bonfire to remember
Treacle-toffee piece, or ten
Believe your eyes
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7. |
Hold You Back
03:03
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You always live as if
There's no such word as "no"
I'm learning I should never let
"Never" into conversation
Oh, for a moment to explain why
This road may not be the one
Perhaps the weighted scales
In balance, for the best
Balloons may fly off into space
Or tethered to the earth
A flight suppressed
You'll have your time to soar
Not past the point of no return
If I ever hold you back
I see the forest's glowing eyes
The track we took is lost
In distance and in time
But further from the start we've come
Than ever I thought possible to climb
Through uplands in the sun
To the stronghold in the air
Though mists surround the peak
The summit path will lead us there
If I ever hold you back
I see the step into thin air
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8. |
Golden Age
03:03
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Doors that never bolted
Cricket on the green
Of our imagination
The kitchen sparkling clean
Present, past and future
Not what they used to be
Stained-glass windows of the mind
Colour memory
Yearning for a simpler time
Of tea upon the lawn
The golden age they long for
May bring a golden dawn
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9. |
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[instrumental]
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10. |
The Last Train
03:39
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The clouds came to pay
Last respects that spring day
One hundred and score years would see
The trains roll into history
Coaches normally
As empty as you'll see
Were groaning at the seams
For the final trip into their dreams
We don't know what we have
Before the lifting of the tracks
Remorse arrived too late
This last train's not coming back
Where once the coaches rolled
The young trees turn to gold
Bridges rust in country lanes
As grassy platforms face the rain
No steam or DMU
Will trace this trail anew
But Beeching's ghosts will slumber on
As history has proved him wrong
[bridge]
The signals we have missed
The branches pruned too soon
The traffic waits in line
The whistle calls the tune
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The Pattern Store UK
60s-tinged English-ish guitar pop, with anachronistic elements and a pinch of whimsy. Think Beatles, Kinks, Bonzo Dog Band, Kevin Ayers, Cleaners From Venus, etc.
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