1. |
Walden
03:28
|
|||
|
Still wait for waves to come to carry us to some land...
|
||||
2. |
Land
03:14
|
|||
|
We wait for waves to come to carry us to some land. We wait on this stinking ship to be braver men. Land, land, a place to call home, a quiet hall, a fire's roar, a simple God with sixteen hands, a simple sleep with few demands. Want a wave to pull me down to land. And, and, a shopping mall, a Chinese cinema in which to forget it all. Meryl Streep and pornography, summer's soma and it's all over. (To drink to sleep and not to dream). We watched the men get caught, it wasn't supposed to hurt. Saw what happened to the girl...
|
||||
3. |
A Howl? at 3 a.m.
05:05
|
|||
|
Darkly, sweetly, comes the Lethe. Darkly it carries us beneath the shade. Down, down, into hell itself to meet my friend howling at the boxes packed with his history. Come outside the air is big and we can breathe. Come outside the sky is huge and we won't bleed. Pulling on his soul's remains (we can) take it for walks. Promise coffee, beer, and a light, not who is wrong (and the why's and the won't's). Here, drink this Lethe, forget your sin and walk with me. Up, up, into the forest shade where we can sleep. Too much boxed-alone thinking, head in solaced hands. Here comes the spring air that carries the chatter of life's rich winners. Here comes the sweet air that carries the laughter of us rich winners. Too much television thinking (in American).
|
||||
4. |
Krave
06:02
|
|||
|
We hope for clouds, we hope for storms, we watch for weather systems. The television is 8 feet wide, we travel through double rainbows. We got the cloud, we got the storms. We've got the cloud, we've got the storms. We stop the car and listen. Sleek black hair a fountain of relief, stinking of perfume, lavender and rosemary Christmas is wrapped up in green ormolu. Paint your house silver: a Canova please in each room. Where go we tonight? Done in Leopard's Hall. Where go we tonight? At the Fall of Bridges. Where go we tonight? A bar across the (eyes)(ice?), tight in a staircase light. Raven of Lisbon with those trees in his hair. Floor-length green dresses hitched up BBQ, and posh tea with Stephen, Gertrude and the Dead. We wrote these ritzy pages, my sweet and visionary mmmm. Pharmacopeia in the palace of Madrid. Walls of cut bottles, poisons and reliefs. You showed me all these things, my sweet itinerary, stinking of perfume, lavender and take me to Tokyo...
|
||||
5. |
The Nobel Prize is Mine
03:49
|
|||
|
10am. Drunk again. Is this the style of writer's with prizes? These sour thoughts won't pretty the world. I'll piss instead on the bleach blocks where they rest. The season of gin has relaxed me again. And I love my dear wife, she says: "Oh John, why today?" My face a stamp, postcard 45c. I'm smiling head-on so write something witty; like 'I hang in pools near smiling boys', I'm pure in deed though I thought to (suck his cock) leave this world. The sorrow of lust has forced me to thrust my point home in shame. She says: "Oh John, why today?" It has come too late, this prize. Battled out. The tyres have squealed. Who have I hit? Do they need assistance? I'm qualified in indifference, care and concern, and drunkenness a connoisseur. The season of gin has bedded me again. I die my dear wife, accept this prize for me.
|
||||
6. |
Childhood Poetry
04:01
|
|||
|
Burning childhood poetry, burning childhood memory, on the fire....
|
||||
7. |
Being Brave
03:21
|
|||
|
i got something i want i need in front of me being brave i touch you take you simplicity because you travel me to good and companion me to hope laughing and dancing close laughing in dreams tonight of eye flowers you'll grow eye flowers rare and gold you've got something i need i'll share no consequence i've got something i've got something we've got something high flyin' sea horse's tails i'm taking something i want i need no consequence.
|
||||
8. |
It Grew In The Fire
03:06
|
|||
9. |
Goodbye
03:12
|
|||
10. |
Lullaby for a broken dog
00:40
|
|||
|
Didn't mean to push you.
I know you didn't mean to fall,
and now you're all in pieces on the wooden floor.
It must have been the anatomy book,
something thick and heavy,
that's left you barkless.
And your brother on the shelf,
quite beside himself.
|
||||
11. |
||||
|
The moon has done her make-up and you have such bad teeth. Yes she has blacked her lashes and you have broken teeth. She slips out to aid the stars that light your romantic bliss. Cruel bitch she exaggerates all that is amiss. It haunts you, you beg to be released. It taunts you, you beg but to dream. Try and sleep here tonight. Imaginary mothers forgive and cleave their child, cooing an 'OK', 'alright', into gluey eyes. Coaxing a growing upthrusting rocket life. Imagine this, impossible that, to soar without a fight. The right to sleep allowed and clean inside this labyrinth. A bullish moan, a hero's flight, a night in ancient Greece. The moon is done she's sleeping now, your happy hopes are crushed. The moon will rise beautiful And you will turn to dust.
|
||||
12. |
Lull 5 (venus slipped)
04:14
|
|||
|
I'll show you sleep on a hammer headed beach, with the rain tap stopped and the surf appeased under geometric duvet skies. Empty giant fan shells, empty giant fans, orange as sunsets. Did I tell the story of the sodden immodest body? The swollen face and the bloom of bruises her ankles re-shaped and useless. Where the rope had lunch and that rope had dinner. The rope had lunch and then sleep was upon her. The rope had lunch and the rope had dinner. The rope had lunch and then sleep was upon her. Only trying to scare you Nothing bad's ever happened here Get back to tanning why don't you... Empty giant fan shells, empty giant fans.
|
||||
13. |
||||
|
Sweet honey milk, teaspoons of jam, musical boxes, treasures in hand for a dream with the night's Fairy Guide, winged, unleaden, light... to a golden tree land and golden sky sands, silver castle dogs with moons to count - three! And your dark slumber hair (your dark slumber hair) Perfect kisses, OH! Rainbow rich promises, to keep you hers, for ever more.
|
||||
14. |
||||
|
I know who is sick, I know who should worry, I know who is guilty, I know who is sleepless, with fingers crossed and filled teeth grinding, I know who is faking, I know who is hiding, I know who was careless in honour and friendship, and certain opinions on the rightness of things, I know who was noble, I know who deserving, I know who stood sly and gave us all away, crying 'Surrender!' 'Surrender!' Flowergundaddream on an achy belly, I done had a dream now got an achy belly. I know who is sick, I know who is over.
|
||||
15. |
||||
|
Hush, he's quiet now. Hush, be quiet now. I can feel his cloak about my shoulder. The footsteps on the creaky boards, Jane, is he coming with our gifts? He's walking fast, he's breathing thick. He's walking fast, he's breathing quick. Can you hear the curlew outside? Pull the blanket tight. Whisper 'I love you, still'. Can you hear his breath inside? Pull the blanket tight. Whisper 'it's alright you can go...' The footsteps on the creaky boards, Jane, is he coming with our gifts? He's walking fast, he's breathing quick. The hammer on the wooden floor, Jane, is he coming with my sleep? I'm beating fast, I'm breathing quick. Beating fast, I'm breathing thick. Feed me on the banks of the River Nile afterlife...
|
||||
16. |
||||
|
The moon has done her make-up and you have such bad teeth. Yes she has blacked her lashes and you have broken teeth. She slips out to aid the stars that light your romantic bliss. Cruel bitch she exaggerates all that is amiss. It haunts you, you beg to be released. It taunts you, you beg but to dream. Try and sleep here tonight. Imaginary mothers forgive and cleave their child, cooing an 'OK', 'alright', into gluey eyes. Coaxing a growing upthrusting rocket life. Imagine this, impossible that, to soar without a fight. The right to sleep allowed and clean inside this labyrinth. A bullish moan, a hero's flight, a night in ancient Greece. The moon is done she's sleeping now, your happy hopes are crushed. The moon will rise beautiful And you will turn to dust.
|
||||
PATRICK FITZGERALD Manchester, UK
Patrick Fitzgerald was the singer and bass player in Kitchens of Distinction. After Kitchens he was: Fruit, one half of three fabulous duos - Lost Girls | The April Seven | Oskar's Drum - and Stephen Hero. He has been releasing records under all these guises and more since 1987. ... more
If you like A Connemara Songbook - Landed/Lullaby (2000-1), you may also like:
A Cathedral Of Hands
by Oskar's Drum
supported by 18 fans who also own “A Connemara Songbook - Landed/Lullaby (2000-1)”
I've been a fan of KoD for years and I recently "Discovered" Oscar's Drum. A Cathedral Of Hands is a truly inspired album, it's been on heavy rotation since I first heard it.
go to album
supported by 16 fans who also own “A Connemara Songbook - Landed/Lullaby (2000-1)”
go to album
supported by 9 fans who also own “A Connemara Songbook - Landed/Lullaby (2000-1)”
It’s hauntingly beautiful and conjures up intense emotions.
go to album
Sleep While You Can
by Blue Canopy
From Portland, Oregon, Blue Canopy write radiant guitar pop that eases its way into soft, sparkling choruses.
go to album
Grizzly Bear’s classic debut gets a 15th anniversary vinyl reissue, with a digital companion featuring a bevy of remixes.
go to album
Get groovy with the new one from Orions Belte, an album bursting with lithe basslines and hooky melodies.
go to album
IT WON/T BE LIKE THIS ALL THE TIME LIVE
by The Twilight Sad
supported by 7 fans who also own “A Connemara Songbook - Landed/Lullaby (2000-1)”
Perfect to dance to in a room with no light. Xx
go to album
