I had myself a séance, with shakespears players, brought some sooth sayers, Scribbled what they said with crayons Ohh, got me nowhere And so I called Steven Fry up, and put him in a line up Oscar Wilde, Wittengenstein, Einstein I need to aim…

A folksy number inspired by the stories my nan told me many moons ago about her uncle Herbie.. Herein lies the story, of a man named Herbie Jones. Not a million miles away from a man you might have known. A miner in the twenties, blue scars…

It aint like no ones done this before But how can you tire of beautiful chords In the fifties In Tenessee Where my love was born Two young men upped and crossed the yard both cold cos it was rainin hard. One of them turned said…

Rushing water.

Awake, but not.

Floating in color.

Crossing the boundary into sleep.

Drifting off into darkness.

This was written during one of my extended absences from home. I'll post the lyrics as soon as I find them. Enjoy. ER

This one is much more of a pop song, with a bouncy bass line underscoring the lyrics, which is an ode to teenage impatience. Enjoy. ER