Pay it no attention;
that petty rhythm
No explosions will silence you,
no failing knees to hold
The sleight of lips
Cities drown like babies
caught by mother’s peace
And our fathers go out into the night
to protect the alleyways and sins
The sleight of hips
“I’m better of dead”, you said
when you fled from the slurry of the red
smeared across your head
And the cracked cornices of your frame;
the scars upon your name;
testament to all the shit you gave
The sleight of lips
That petty rhythm sleeps
and clicks to calm your dreams
With every clack: attack
at you seams
Has no-one told you that you should wear yellow?
It doesn’t suit you:
its surprise betrays you,
and the sun blushes
The sleight of rays
“And I’m better of dead”, you said
when you fled from the slurry of the red
smeared across your head
And the cracked cornices of your frame;
the scars upon your name;
testament to all the shit you gave
The sleight of lips
The sleight of lips
These words itch
Split rosehips
Drop it alone
Cry-out!
Spit out the apple pips
These words itch
Split rosehips
Drop it alone
Cry-out!
Spit out the apple pips
The London musician recorded the dreamy psychedelic pop songs on his third album in churches, bedrooms and kitchens. Bandcamp New & Notable Jun 15, 2023
If you have a fondness for expertly wrought roots-rock with sharp lyrics and aching vocals, look no further—“Strangers” is for you. Bandcamp New & Notable Jan 8, 2022