Friday, 28 March 2008


I've got it, I've got energy, I've got power, I've got ideas, I haven't got time to even shower, I haven't even got time to put a full stop, only kommas, I must make something, I must drink a latte, no, no latte, might push me over the edge, oops now I had a latte, wow, I feel ok, I feel great, great, I might even try a cigarette, NOOOOO, yes, NOOOOO, yes, NOOOOO, yes, fuck it.

pppffffffhhhhh aaaahhhhhhhh

I feel like shit. Actually. f.u.l.l...s.t.o.p.s....i..w.i.s.h...i...w.a.s...a.t...h.o.m.e...i..h.a.t.e...t.h.i.s...s.h.i.t...j.o.b...i...n.e.e.d..t.o..s.t.o.p...s.m.o.k.i.n.g...

Sunday, 9 March 2008


Here's some more lyrics, in no particular order.

SturM und Drang
A sea that begins and ends
with no shores
Waves crash agains glass
and shock your frame

Your lungs struggle for air
You're near submerged
The fights under your belt
weigh you down

Your screams reflect off the walls
hollow and wet
recoil from a transparent throat
But you can't drown
you can't drown

Do you want to be freed
How do you want to be seen
Climb out of your glass
No storm blows out here

The Culinary Skills of a Modern Man
I am a traveling chef
My knife never rests
I've got blood on my hands
And ice in my chest
And I'll warm you up and cool you down
and cook you tenderly

My pots and pans are
the skulls and rib cages
of beautiful feeble creatures
with spiteful, able features
I warm them up and cool them down
and cook them tenderly

First I smell
Then you see,
Then I taste
And then we feel

My meat of choice is
Wild hearts and free souls
Lured in by adjustable brain waves.
From a controlled breeding ground
To ensure match
Sweetened with a deceiving tongue

Concrete under the Bridge
There's a statue on the square
That's not yet turned to stone
I see it from my window
I feel it in my bones

All the stately grandeur
For passers-by to find
Masks that piercing gaze
That's intercepting mine

I can't keep you out
the wave wont break
frozen in time
concrete under the bridge

In the morning sun
You let yourself be watched
And by the hands of time
You let yourself be touched

I can't keep you out
the wave wont break
frozen in time
concrete under the bridge

Martin & Victoria and Us

This weekend I wrote and recorded a new song. It's about an old friend from school and how he became my friend. I managed to create a triple meaning to a phrase in the song, I'm proud to say. Maybe a bit tenuous but still.
I sing "you, more than I, wrote our first song. It was A minor."
The song's title Martin and Victoria is also the title of a book we read in school at that time (about 14, I guess) and the main character Martin's favourite chord is Am. The song my friend and I wrote was also in Am and, DRUM ROLL PLEASE, the chord I play at that point in my song is also Am. Voila, amazing.

Here are the lyrics. My Myspace to hear/download the song.

When we were young and you sat next to me
I was wrong, you were not really who I though
You had much more to say now than I remembered

I used to think, that you were simple
like the way you wrote your name down
that somehow you wouldn't understand
what I was and where I came from

You watched the world from the moon
through a home made lens,
wide enough to observe all the movement.

When we were young and you forgave me
we both got strong
you more than I wrote our first song
It was Am
And that night, I saw your beauty

You watched the world from the moon
through a home made lens
wide enough to observe every movement

You were lying, when you said to me
that it's not coming
that you're the one to change
I'd trade my place, to be who you are

Tuesday, 4 March 2008


This morning I woke up feeling physically sick because a hard ball of anger and frustration was bouncing around relentlessly in my belly trying to find a way to escape and explode out into the world in a massive silent roar that would only be felt, not heard.
Now I should find out why I woke up feeling like that, but I don't want to. I just want it to go away. I know some things are frustrating me, but I don't want to focus on them. They'll only tip me over the edge. I feel like those Airbus pilots in Germany yesterday must have felt. I know something is really wrong but I hope if I just concentrate and get the job done, then all that fear and doubt and anger will be replaced by a single moment's profound relief and then a savage urge for MacDonald's or something disappointing like that.
I keep my eyes on the ball and hold my breath until this dark cloud has passed over my head and over the head of some other unfortunate sod. Negative acidic thoughts dropping from the sky shall be deflected heroically by my multi coloured south-west. I will overcome this darkness. Aha, coffee! That's what I needed. Blue skies above. My day can begin. Oh, look, a daffodil.