Song: My Love Walls

My love walls are flesh
My love walls are fire
My love walls are tall trees
Growing higher and higher
My love walls are phantoms
My love walls are veins
My love walls are visions
My love walls are brains

Oh – My Love Walls
Oh – My Love Walls

My love walls are emotions
My love walls are looks
My love walls are DNAs
Hanging upon hooks
My love walls tall
My love walls vapours
My love walls are dynamite
My love wall are nature

Oh – My Love Walls
Oh – My Love Walls

My love walls are shivering
My love walls are wars
My love walls are icebergs
And they have no doors
My love walls are gristle
My love walls are bones
My love walls encompass you
They swallow you alone

Oh – My Love Walls
Oh – My Love Walls

My love walls are mouths and ears
My love walls are eyes
My love walls are orders
Talking custard lies
My love walls are melting
They’re always falling down
My love walls are dying
Turning round and round

Oh – My Love Walls
Oh – My Love Walls

My love walls are insects legs
They are also ugly things
My love walls also are reflections
That fly on fearless wings
My love walls are tired
My love walls are bruised
My love walls are crying
Because they’ve been abused

Oh – My Love Walls
Oh – My Love Walls

my love walls

please click to see PDF of melody and chords

 

Song: Picassos old man painted pigeons

It’s another winter’s day and I’m sitting here alone
The night descends, the air gets cold and I’m a long, long way from home
The super heroes of my youth could be passing in the street
I hear the occasional trampling of their feet

It’s a day like any other
That brings you down to the ground
And makes you think of the ordinary things
Going round and round

And Picasso’s old man painted pigeons
He didn’t paint nothing more
He just liked to paint pigeons
That gathered around his door

There’s a stillness in the room I’m in and a quietly ticking clock
A few children’s voices playing run around the block
The roar of underground trains I can hear beneath my feet
A person rattling a paper bag as I write upon this sheet

And Picasso’s old man painted pigeons
He didn’t paint nothing more
Piccasso’s old man painted pigeons
That fluttered around his door

And I’ve got that waiting feeling like a statue in a square
That people all are passing by as if I wasn’t there
But in my world I’m not made of stone, I’m not waiting for anyone
I’m thinking about the everyday things that everyday people get done

And Picasso’s old man painted pigeons
He must have counted everyone
And Picasso’s old man loved his pigeons
And he watched them fly in the sun

Pigeons they are everywhere
Some are here, some are there
You can love them if you try
You can love them if you care

And Picasso’s old man painted pigeons
Maybe they’re not so well known to you
But Picasso’s old man painted pigeons
That’s all he really wanted to do

Song: Australia House

Lyrics to Australia House:

Chorus:

I went down to Australia House
Fot to find a friend of mine
It’s so strange there is no doubt
She’s been gone a long, long time.

Verses 1 – 3

I never thought you’d leave me
I never thought you’d go
You vanished like a dream
You vanished like the snow

I took a trip down under
Flying through the sky
Noone seemed to know you
No matter how I tried

I’ve seen such bitter hatred
For reasons unexplained
I wish that you were with me
To help me through this pain

Australia House

A song about how a loved one can seem to dissappear from your life without any warning. About a dream where I went searching down-under.

Song: She’s just the Girl in the Adverts

Once again I’m asked – who’s that by your side?
Who is that girl I saw you with? Are they being paranoid?
She’s is just a friend of mine we’re sharing the same hurt
I’m the boy from the looking glass crowd, and she’s the girl in the advert

Look and you will see her on posters everywhere
don’t ask me who she is now, you must surely know
She’s the lonely girl in the adverts at every port of call
The lonely girl in the adverts who looks from every wall

They wonder whom I’m seeing, they must not use their eyes
I’m the boy in the looking glass, She’s the girl on wall
She’s the girl in the adverts who’s walking by my side
She’s the girl from the adverts So don’t be paranoid

She’s the girl in the adverts Selling the thing you like to eat
Please don’t be so paranoid When you see her walking with me
She’s the girl in the adverts the girl in the camera lens
She’s the girl in the adverts and we’re just very good friends

She’s just from the advert There’s nothing going on
She’s just the girl from the adverts She’s just the girl in my song
You see her on the billboards at every port of call
You see her in the bus stop she’s posted on the wall

She’s just the girl in the advert Please just use your eyes
She’s just the girl in the adverts So don’t be paranoid
She’s in the ice cream advert The chocolate bar one too
She’s just the girl in the adverts Those advertise to you

Chocolate bars and ice cream in a tropical paradise
She’s just the girl in the advert The one who always looks nice
Surely you have seen her Why don’t you use your eyes?
She’s just the girl in the adverts So don’t be paranoid

And if you see her out with me don’t be so surprised
She’s just the girl in the adverts So don’t be paranoid
Surely you must know her By now she’s everywhere
She’s just the girl in the adverts The one with the long straight hair

She’s the girl in the adverts who never speaks aloud
She’s just the girl in the adverts And I’m the boy from the looking glass crowd
She’s the girl in the adverts She doesn’t want to offend
She’s just the girl in the adverts And she’s really  my friend

You don’t know who she is This girl who’s by my side
Now you think what you want to think and you being paranoid
She’s just the girl in the advert Why don’t you use your eyes?
She’s just the girl in the advert that here by my side

She’s advertising ice cream and of chocolate too
She’s the girl with the long straight hair Who advertises to you
She’s the girl in the advert there’s no beginning, there’s no end
She’s just the girl in the advert And she really is my friend

2002

© Michael Aitken 2019

the girl in the adverts

Please click to see a PDF of the music

 

 

Song: A Dream Has Told Me So

Lyric sheet

I know that you are leaving me,
A dream has told me so.
I’m going back to Brownhills
To the love I used to know

Those days are gone like morning dew
And like the summer breeze
And we will be returning soon
Like the growth of next years leaves

Ghosts of the past are welcome here
We all can live as friends
Ghosts of the present welcome too
To a world that never ends

The things we see with our eyes
And things down deep inside
And things that we can talk about
And things we have to hide

A dream has told me so

Please click to see PDF of music

First we dance and then we go to heaven

First we dance and then we go to heaven
First we love and then we pass away
We see the sky and then round ‘bout seven
Our hearts feel empty and we dream in grey

First we must dance and then we go to heaven
We somehow forget how hard life can be
We don’t realise how our bodies are like leaven
We only know what’s good and what is free

First we dance and then we go to heaven
And heaven loves the ignorance of a child
Never dreaming death can come between us
The purity of love and all things free and wild

Then we tire and find there are no answers
To questions about love lasting years
Then we cry and end our career as dancers
We feel like stone and then we fill with tears

So first we dance and then we go to heaven
And if we love we’ll live forever more
This is the ideal that life seems to teach us
And if we run we can just get through the door

The Bluebird Cafe

I stopped at the bluebird cafe by Coniston Water
I went over the Hardknot Pass under Scafell Pike
I lingered with the Hardwick sheep on the shore of Windermere
Where the rain fell down and the mists obscured my sight
I chugged down the Eskdale railway to the station
I visited Muninster Castle where the owls seem to cry
I viewed Sellafield from Ravensglass harbour
Where in the small street there, no one seemed to alive
And I sat in the Bluebird Café by Coniston water
My thoughts like a gentle whispering breeze
That were trailing behind me through mountain passes
With my dreams in the hilltops and my feet in the Irish Seas
And I sat in the Bluebird Cafe by Coniston water
I saw the bird of the blues disappear into the trees
And the ferry too come circling into the harbour
And the sun came through the clouds on its hands and knees
And I tried to think of you by Coniston Water
I tried to think of you in the Bluebird Café
But like the mists and the breezes my thoughts were trailing
And the sun and the rain they went away
You should have been here with me by Coniston Water
You should be here with me in the Bluebird Café
You should have been here with me but all I have is the breeze
You should have been here with me on this strange holiday
The coach man had to hurry, I hardly had time for some tea

Song: Down in Mr. Kelly’s Workshop

Mr. Kelly’s workshop

Please click to see a PDF music sheet of words and music to this song

Lyrics to my song about going to Art School.

The tramps, the troops, in ceremonial groups
Are playing classroom rebels in the hall.
Meanwhile there, a boy with Gainsborough hair
Is drawing graffiti on the wall.

The vamps, the groups, of Babylonian girls
Are keeping something secret up their sleeves.
Meanwhile there, the wooden spoon it stares
Is telling tale of secret love affairs.

Down in Mr. Kelly’s workshop
That’s where I go till break of day.
Down in Mr. Kelly’s workshop
I go to work my troubles all away.

The knights, the hoods, the mystic from the woods
Hold a séance in a darkened room.
Meanwhile there, I was in despair
As Houdini’s ghost came falling down the stairs.

The prince, the pawn, wearing old school clothes
Are painting both their shoes a pretty pink.
Meanwhile there, in his ragged old armchair
I sketch them all with invisible ink.

Down in Mr. Kelly’s workshop
A bunch of dolls are bleeding on the floor.
Down in Mr. Kelly’s workshop
Museum bones are tapping at the door.

The mother, the lover, the child of the rover
Are trying to understand the fallacy.
I cannot see, as I walk in from the street
Why they fear the worst in everyone.

A man in black, with a briefcase and a mask
Walks around the sculptors rented room;
Now he’s back and he’s walking very fast
Decides it will be demolished very soon.

Down in Mr. Kelly’s workshop
Past the statues standing in the drive.
Down in Mr. Kelly’s workshop
The ally cat struggles to survive.

Wipe the frost from off the window
Look out into the rainy day
Let’s go somewhere now; lets be happy and I don’t care how
So long as we leave our troubles all behind.

(If you’re hungry and forlorn, and you need to be reborn
From a life that turns its back on you
You can sit and stare from his old armchair
At the people working in his studio).

The phoenix has flown, from the ashes of the stone
A carving that is done from memory.
Meanwhile there, … … …
They fear the worst in every one.

(The night has fallen, the stone carving that they work on
Will be born the next sunrise)
The atmosphere inside, of energy is devoid
And rebirth weights heavily on his mind
(As if death has been unearthed by the artists eye).

You feel too bad to work,
You don’t understand a word
And time is like an ice cube in your shoe
You’re let down, I know,
You know you can only go
Down to Mr. Kelly’s studio.

Down in Mr. Kelly’s workshop
Mr. K. pulls a bluebird from the stone.
Down in Mr. Kelly’s workshop
Into the wind his miracle has flown.

For a place in school, there’s an audition in the hall
Like a slave market from a covered stall.
While the hand that is ignored, is the one that can’t afford
To let down the home just to be disguised.

The rich with the law try to teach the poor
While taking every penny that you own.
Art won’t make your bread, they teach you law instead
You spend your time taking their exams.

Down in Mr. Kelly’s workshop
The lock has been forced on the garage door.
Down in Mr. Kelly’s workshop
His dolls lie broken on the floor.

Like orphans of the road, some from broken homes
Pass through the workshop like …broken flowers.
Meanwhile there in fashions of last year
… girls who break down in tears

And the silence burdens you with manic principal
Who wants to integrate you all the time.
While the hand that is ignored, Is the one that can’t afford
To let down the home That he/she came fro Just to be disguised

Meanwhile there, he wants more G.C.E.’s
But he cannot see the trouble on your mind

Down in Mr. Kelly’s workshop
No one there has stopped you being free.
Down in Mr. Kelly’s workshop
A box of dolls has begun to bleed.

When I went to my first art class
The streets were paved with glass
Looking into a world I’d never know.
Now the streets are in dust
As the wind blows in disgust
Turning my poor heart into stone.

The tramps the troops, in theatrical groups
Would discuss my social problems in the street.
Meanwhile there, I’m seen weeping in the canteen
Because I can’t afford to buy anything to eat.

Down in Mr. Kelly’s workshop
Every one must wear a disguise.
Down in Mr. Kelly’s workshop
No one can talk to me eye to eye.

Mr. Principal feels its time for me to leave
All I want is a chance to draw
But you’ve got no money and no G.C.E.s
And you’re not sophisticated enough in how you talk.

Down in Mr. Kelly’s workshop
That’s where I’d go till break of day.
Down in Mr. Kelly’s workshop
Is where I’d go if ever I’d lost my way.

A dog in labyrinthic gloom, Peggy Sue’s sad tune
I’ll go to hide in his little office room.
Meanwhile I’d curse, the system till it hurt
The pain was something I really can’t explain.

The Bran-den-burg, like Brancusi’s bird
Soars passed the jeep that’s parked out in the drive.
Meanwhile outside, with mysterious hungry eyes
You draw nudes, fruit and empty bottles of wine.

 

Down in Mr. Kelly’s workshop
The cosmopolitan people never died.
Down in Mr. Kelly’s workshop
Though the changes came, it’s still there in my mind.

Sex, drugs, and the disguises of love
You can be a bohemian, even if you cannot draw.
Just pass all the exams, thieve ideas from my hands
Then you’ll take the place of artists in art schools.

The dying and the born, walk in from the storm
And begin to sculpt a pregnant form.
Meanwhile outside, the starving angel cries
And the model on the bottle stands by his side.
Or; (the devil with a sheep’s carcass hanging by his side)

Down in Mr.’ Kelly’s workshop
The manger and the tomb are done.
Down in Mr. Kelly’s workshop
In the rising and the setting of the sun.

The talking clock, the bones inside my sock
Simultaneously are heard to groan.
Meanwhile all day, the ghost piano plays
For the drunken navy’s asleep on an old tombstone.

The lathe and the file, argue all the while
Over who put the shine in a wedding ring.
Venus knows what to do (in blue), will take them down a peg or two
It was then that everyone began to sing – – –

Down in Mr. Kelly’s workshop
We sand the problem till it fades away.
Down in Mr. Kelly’s workshop
Only the beauty of the form remains.

(Why don’t you come along inside
Join the party and have a real good time).

I’d be footloose and fancy free
But for these chains on me
Put there by the authority.
I’d know all I need to know
If I didn’t have these blues so
That everyone feels
But no body else can see.

the church by the pub, on the hill of modern love
up the market to the old art school
the sun has set, the students all have left
and the market is empty of its stalls.

 

 

Top 10 of Anything and Everything - The Fun Top Ten Blog

Animals, Gift Ideas, Travel, Books, Recycling Ideas and Many, Many More

La Page @Mélie

Contre le blues, le meilleur remède, c'est le rock...!

Dustus Blog

Poetry, Flash Fiction, and more

Paris-La Rochelle

Le temps du rêve

Reverie in reverse

Phillip writes poetry ... or gets lost in thought

BUTTERFLY EFFECT🌸

Baby steps in the right direction👣

Adeline Wrights Poetry

A place of love, pain, and pondering

Hettie's Reflections

On family history, parenting, education, social issues and more

e-Quips

News and views to inform or amuse

What's Inside a Madman's Hat?

...everything is subject to change.

MARKOVICH LITERARY CAFE

Alex Markovich: author, visual storyteller, theater director

thedrabble.wordpress.com/

Shortness of Breadth

The #1 Itinerary

Inspiring the world's next generation of travelers.

Hopeless fountain

Living moments through words.

zeta tau alpha

samford university | delta psi chapter

luna's on line

Writing and Stuff by Chris Hall - Storyteller and Accidental Blogger

THE POET BY DAY

Poets, Poetry, News, Reviews, Readings, Resources & Opportunities for Poets and Writers

Indians Abroad Desi Videsh Me

Lifestyle - Cooking tips - Travelling in Europe- Emotional support - Integrating with locals -Easy Recipes-Gardening

%d bloggers like this: