I wear black It reflects on my mood Stirring, restless, unfulfilled I tell you, it's not being cool I still wear black It reflects on my mood Stirring, restless, unfulfilled I'll level, it's not for cool When I'm calling I'm falling…

Don't give me attention Don't forget your halo I will tip-toe 'til you're ready You're barred if you call me Don't like it when the bell rings Do we battle from the get go? You turn up: I am aching Are you better to ignore me? All…

'Miserere' is a melancholic song about the absence of god that sounds like synth pop but with harmonies from a church choir. *Lyrics* Miserere Have mercy on me So tenderly cleanse me though I don't believe Through your dark deeds you cannot…

Dec 2023 REM *Lyrics* Ask me, don't tell me I'm biding my time for now Since you took your leave It's vital then, vital now Since we departed Close up my door And block out all the "sorry for your loss, dear" Go now Are we…

*Liner Notes* "Curving and Something Else" has ended up being about memory loss, in the bleak, end-of-life, Alzheimer's way. I'm not a a sufferer (yet!), just an observer. I write songs in this melancholic style ... which requires an sympathetic…

*Liner Notes* Was thinking of flexing the vocal synths -- rather than trying to disguise them -- but they just grated -- even more than usual! So went for a subtler, um, heavy breathing motif. Maybe I'll get bolder with the vocal gymnastics going…

There was a time when We'd be scuttling, running hard Cops on tail And grins on faces There was a time when We'd be aching Bleeding slow All worth the time incarcerated They said we wouldn't go far Looks like they got it right then…

Needs reworking to remove Stripped drone/engine ... was enjoying myself too much! Let the storm break Let the storm break on me When balance fails Please stumble into me Let the storm break Let the rain fall hard on me Not all days…

Build an impression Straight brush, curving round Claude's subtle gestures Light touch, hence no sound Heart never opened Hardly dented Not a great state To leave your pillow or your soul When you ignore me Then final warnings sound…

I think that I'm Incapable of thought I craft and work As that's what I've been taught But see no joy in Rothko or Matisse Their brushstrokes leave me cold A value you can't teach Teach me to feel pain Teach me how to love I think that…