1. |
Holes
04:09
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Down along the road
There’s a house I used to know
With a barred up door,
And I recalled
Every moment on the journey,
Every sign along the way,
Every bend there in the road.
I wish that I could show you
How a flower grows,
I wish I had the nerve to bring you here
But we’re burning holes into the sun,
There’d be nothing left here for you,
There’ll be nothing left here for anyone.
Down along the road
There’s a house I used to know
And now it’s spoiling for a fight,
Still I recall
Standing on the front step,
Flying paper planes I’d make
With a piece of paper folded twice.
And I wish that I could show you
What it means to grow,
I wish I had the nerve to bring you up
In a world where the air will burn your lungs,
There’d be nothing left here for you,
There’ll be nothing left here for anyone.
Down by the roadside,
They put bars across the door,
Flowers on the lawn – bright steel and pink,
And I recall
Your father’s father’s father
Carried stones down from the woods
To build the garden, brick by brick.
Now no one knows that man,
Few remember him at all,
But his name is always on my lips.
Down by the roadside
Is where my father’s father built his garden
With twigs and with sticks.
And I wish that I could show you
How that garden grows,
I wish that I could give you all I owe.
And I wish that I could show you
How a flower grows,
I wish I had the nerve to bring you…
But we’re burning holes into the sun,
There’d be nothing left here for you
There’ll be nothing left here for anyone.
We’re burning holes into the sun,
The sea will claim your home
And the air will surely burn your lungs.
We’re burning holes into the sun,
I never could condemn
You to live that life my little one.
We’re burning holes into the sun,
We’re burning holes into the sun,
We’re burning holes into the sun.
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2. |
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3. |
Time
04:58
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There is a man who lives in every town I’ve been through,
And he always looks like I do,
You know when Sunday comes, he’ll offer an excuse to you,
And on the next day too.
Now and then, they ask you how you’re doing,
And you say – fine, nothing new –
But my pulse quickens for a second as the truth threatens to surface
And to fill the space that’s grown between us two,
And as time goes by,
The words get harder to find.
We dance around all the times we fall down,
And I don’t know why.
There is a cafe in the park down by the station,
And so whenever friends stop by, they stop by there,
She steels herself for coffee and for conversation;
There’s some little rift that now must be repaired.
She’s so polite, she always answers with a question,
So obtuse it’s always followed with a smile,
Just says – this year has thrown up more than I had reckoned,
I guess that it’ll take a little while,
And as time goes by,
The words get harder to find.
The truth will out but still we keep it locked down,
And I don’t know why.
The church and cobbles look their worst in summer sunlight,
At least that’s how it’s always seemed to be to me,
And solitude no longer makes us feel right,
So we’ll settle now for anonymity.
And once a week, they ask you how you’re doing,
And you say – some days fine, some days blue –
And other days I see a storm is brewing, and that storm takes me back to you,
And as time goes by,
The words get harder to find.
We dance around all the times we fall down,
And I don’t know why.
And as time goes by,
You’re more and more on my mind,
We dance around all the times I fell down,
But I don’t know why.
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4. |
February 20
02:41
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Tom Sissons Glasgow, UK
Tom Sissons is a composer and songwriter. His music has been played at events across the UK which include Bangor Music Festival and Delia Derbyshire Day, and by York-based groups AMOK, Arc Project, and the Chimera Ensemble.
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