A riproaring rollercoaster of a journey through time, space and that side road just over there...

Category: "Music related"

Wind & Wuthering

Written by:Chris of Arabia
Published on February 2nd, 2011 @ 21:56:46 , using 360 words,

Wind & Wuthering

The sun had been up for a couple of hours,
Covered the ground with a layer of gold.
Spirits were high and the raining had stopped,
The larder was low, But boy that wasn't all.
Eleventh Earl of Mar
Couldn't get them very far.
Daddy! Oh Daddy, You Promised.

Out on the road in the direction of Perth,
Backwards and forwards in a circle they went.
Found a city half open and ready to greet,
The conquering heroes, with blisters on their feet.
Eleventh Earl of Mar
Somehow got them all this far.
Daddy! You Promised, You Promised.

See the Stewart all dressed up
He's got eyes in the back of his head.
Who came in a cockleshell boat
That could only just float,
Couldn't even lift a sword.
Dressed too fine and smelling of wine.

Daddy you've got to go!
Here comes the bishop all dressed up
He's gonna bless you if you're ready to pay.
One wave of his funny old stick,
There's a band of light across your eyes.

Waited a week still they hadn't appeared,
That glorious timing that everyone feared.
So they're riding along on the crest of a wave,
They're headed for London, And that will be their grave.
Eleventh Earl of Mar
Well he couldn't get them down that far
Daddy! I'm waiting, I'm waiting

Time to go to bed now
Never seems too keen
To be a guest now
In a house of dreams

Flying from a hillside
Beckoning the trees
A sailboat's awning
Mimicking the breeze

I'm fighting gravity falling
My Daddy won't let them get me
A voice screams seems to be calling
The face turns features are burning.

Daddy, you've got to go!
See the fifteen going by,
Tell the Lairds and the Lords
They're running backwards today,
And once again you stand alone.

Bury your memories bury your friends,
Leave it alone for a year or two.
Till the stories go hazy and the legends come true,
Then do it again. Some Things never end.
Eleventh Earl of Mar
Won't be going very far.
You Promised, You Promised, You Promised.


Texture: Wet Tile by Kim Klassen

Slip Into Something More Comfortable

Written by:Chris of Arabia
Published on October 3rd, 2010 @ 20:24:42 , using 1 words,

In Your Room

Written by:Chris of Arabia
Published on July 6th, 2010 @ 18:11:00 , using 36 words,

In Your Room

Where time stands still...
Or moves at your will
Will you let the morning come soon
Or will you leave me lying here
In your favourite darkness
Your favourite half-light
Your favourite consciousness
Your favourite slave

21 Things I Want In a Lover

Written by:Chris of Arabia
Published on February 11th, 2010 @ 20:43:00 , using 0 words,

21 Things I Want In A Lover

In Your Room

Written by:Chris of Arabia
Published on February 4th, 2010 @ 22:14:00 , using 89 words,
Posted in Music related

With izdihar currently stuck in a holding pattern whilst I work on some stuff behind the scenes (should be good, I promise), I thought I'd give you something good to look and listen to whilst I'm getting things sorted. It's something that came on the iPod whilst out in the car this morning. I'd not really listened closely to the lyrics before, but a couple of lines caught my attention. If this is what infatuation sounds like, it's perhaps not such a bad thing...

Depeche Mode: In Your Room

March of the Rubber Penguin

Written by:Chris of Arabia
Published on January 16th, 2010 @ 22:53:26 , using 571 words,
Posted in General, Music related

In an ideal world, this place would somehow probe the deeper meaning of something somewhere, but instead it continually rattles off the minutia of life; a trip here, a happening there, perhaps a snippet of life previously unreported. Did you know that they sell memory sticks in the shape of a penguin, ones with a cute little blue rubber scarf no less? I got one for Christmas you know.

You see what I mean?

Here is not really place for great revelations or world events. To engage with those might reveal more than I'm comfortable with, give a clue to what's inside, that inner seething mass.

So instead you must piece the puzzle together for yourself, but as yet I've not given you the corners and precious few of the bits of the sides. Do you see a picture at all? I think I lost the lid of the box some time back, the picture was faded and peeling anyway, so I'm not sure it would help you in any event. Maybe some lyrics would help here...

The Chamber Of 32 Doors

Artist: Genesis
Album: Lamb Lies Down on Broadway

At the top of the stairs, there's hundreds of people,
Running around to all the doors.
They try to find themselves an audience;
Their deductions need applause.

The rich man stands in front of me,
The poor man behind my back.
They believe they can control the game,
But the juggler holds another pack.

I need someone to believe in, someone to trust.
I need someone to believe in, someone to trust.

I'd rather trust a countryman than a townman,
You can judge by his eyes, take a look if you can,
Hell smile through his guard,
Survival trains hard.
I'd rather trust a man who works with his hands,
He looks at you once, you know he understands,
Don't need any shield,
When you're out in the field.

But down here,
I'm so alone with my fear,
With everything that I hear.
And every single door, that I've walked through
Brings me back here again,
I've got to find my own way.

The priest and the magician,
Singing all the chants that they have ever heard;
They're all calling out my name,
Even academics, searching printed word.

My father to the left of me,
My mother to the right,
Like everyone else they're pointing
But nowhere feels quite right.

And I need someone to believe in, someone to trust.
I need someone to believe in, someone to trust.

Id rather trust a man who doesn't shout what he's found,
There's no need to sell if you're homeward bound.
If I chose a side,
He wont take me for a ride.

Back inside
This chamber of so many doors;
I've nowhere to hide.
I'd give you all of my dreams, if you'd help me,
Find a door
That doesn't lead me back again take me away.

PS: For those who liked the cliffhanger at the end of the last post, you'll be pleased to know that the dead PC is now well again. Resurrected, Lazarus like, courtesy of a power supply replacement. Some small pride at having been able to diagnose and rectify the problem, a small part of my world that could be changed to the way I wished to see it, an opportunity to use long ago acquired skills, the sort that are never likely to become surplus to requirements.

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