singapore blues

as I live and breathe, you have killed me.

www.myspace.com/itsonlyapapermoon

there's songs and junk.

night salty.

holy goof blues

As The Crow Flies

It’s all the same old drudgery
and once you’re sick of it
you should call me

we can hit all the familiar watering holes
delve deep into each other’s souls

everything is just as the crow flies
when the most suitable theoretical conclusions
are on your terms

we can linger on until the doors are closed
fill our hearts with smoke to remain composed

wander from one corner to the next
with such certainty of stride
but with a mind perplexed

by the currency of secrecy
and how I’m willing to spend it all on you my dear

It seems once the world is asleep
There are some secrets which you
would be a fool to keep

the man on the moon is a miser
but once he retires you will be none the wiser

It’s all the same old same old
But once you’re sick to death of it
You should call me

Whenever you want
Whenever you want

sunday blues

Birthday

She’ll greet you like an old friend
And then never speak to you again
She’ll whisper softly into your ear
But for all accounts and purposes, remain unclear
She’ll lead you to the corner of the chapel
And find a way to capture your heart
Beneath God and all his merchandise
And still you’ll remain desolate and at large
Like a jewel thief aloof, but duly charged

She’ll try to kiss and to devour
And then pretend you could never exist
She’ll feign ignorance as to the hour
But for all accounts and purposes, you will persist
She’ll lead you to her treasured bar stool
beneath the oak tree you so consciously ignored
only to remain vulgar and misleading
and subsequently adored by you and all the other children throwing tantrums
and caution to the wind

She’ll open wounds that will not mend
She’ll take your hand with such intention
that subverts any initial trepidation
with only your poison and your neurosis as your fourth wall
She’ll wheeze and cough and you’ll heed the call
She’ll present to you your dreams
packaged nice and neatly like a birthday gift
that you’d been waiting for since you were born
and you wonder if maybe now they can be realised
and you wonder if these derbies are just too big to fill
and you wonder if this hunger will ever well and truly subside
and you wonder why the coffee always tastes so bad
and you wonder why, at the first sign of life, for all accounts and purposes, She’ll scamper and hide

well boy, you think too much.

disambiguation blues

The Road Is Looking Wretched

The road is looking wretched
And I’m driving in my car
I’ve had one or two too many
But I ain’t gotta go too far
I’m still thinking about all that time I spent
Trying to catch your eye at the bar
But knowing my luck, I couldn’t even catch a cold

I spent a little while in limbo
I spent a little while insane
I spent a little while pondering the complexities
Of asking you your name
Oh I’ve heard them sing ‘can’t buy me love’
But it’s such an unfamiliar refrain
Because the love I sought has already been sold

There’s a disambiguation
Between my pining and my pride
I tend to favour the latter
As the former is harder to define
I planned to share with you an anecdote I heard
Whilst dangling from the vine
But you tuned out before the punch line was ever told

An unnecessary, but relevant revelation
Presented itself to me in due course
That I’d been locked away in solitary confinement
And it took next to no force
I don’t know what transgression bought me here
And I don’t feel any remorse
All I know is that I woke up feeling old

And no, I don’t feel so sorry
When I hear them call my name
Because I’ve heard it maybe once or twice before
And each time it sounds the same
And a part of me still wants to catch the bouquet
Tossed by fickle lady fame
But with my luck, I couldn’t even catch a cold

sampler blues

there are actual recordings on the webpage now..

these things take time, don't they?

www.myspace.com/itsonlyapapermoon

3 down, 7 to go..