1. |
We. Are.
04:33
|
|||
|
Light the fire, run your hands through the flame,
I’m sorry kid, I didn’t catch your name.
I’ve been running alone for so long,
Since the bombs were dropped, and hope was gone
I remember how the dust took the sky for its own,
how the wastelands where forged from broken cars and broken homes
my body nearly falling in the screaming chill
I’ve had to cry, and i’ve had to kill.
So It makes a nice change to meet a soul like yours
who still looks upon me like i’m the man from before.
you see beyond the sores and scars
if you look hard enough at the smoke, you’ll see through to the stars
How does it feel, to know we’re amongst the last ones left,
cause you know we are, we are, we are,
How does feel kid, to know that we are survivors
cause you know that we are, we are, we, are
I don’t know about you, but I plan to build
for the people of the future who have got the skill
to allow the world to grow once more,
to return things to the way that they where before.
Its nice of you to say that I see through the your shell,
but that’s only because it is so easy to tell
that you’ve given up your body for a chance to be free
and you are projecting all your hopes and aspirations on me
The wasteland is now, we are the dead
but hope is alive, it is not like you said,
as long as we believe that the dust will clear
we can rise again, we can start right here.
So how to does feel, to know that we are the genesis
cause you know that we are, we are, we are
So how does it feel mister, to know we are architects
cause you know that we are, we are, we are.
The old man and the girl, they talk until dawn,
whisky and flames keeping them warm
He talks of consequences and he tells her of proof
she says his words lack meaning, and that she makes her own truth
Girl that’s absurd, he says scratching his head,
nothing has changed save the living to the dead
Old man you’re confused, she says whilst taking a drink
you truly are lost if that is what you think.
Don’t just tell me I’m wrong, he says, tell me how
tell me the difference between then and now
she says once there were them, they were separate and two.
Now there is us, there is me and there is you.
The slates are clean as the conversation dries,
each has laughed, cared and cried
They huddle for warmth as the last of the embers die,
beneath dust, and smoke, and fireflies
|
||||
2. |
Young Dragons
03:41
|
|||
|
Light a candle if you want to, but find something to hold on to
find a space to park in the cold and the dark, yeah thats where we’ll start.
Lets run around the place like children, like the boys and girls we were back then,
breathing fire in the bitter wind, this is not the end.
lets tell the stories that we once knew, the once we couldn’t see through,
the once that gripped held us tight, the ones that helped us sleep at night.
The storm of faith will test us, the assault will be relentless
but if you hold on to me, I’ll hold on to you.
This is us and this is how will do it, how we’ll get through it,
this is how we’ll learn, this is how we’ll burn
This is is us and this how we live, this how we will survive,
this is how we’ll thrive, this is how we’ll die.
|
||||
3. |
Neon
03:59
|
|||
|
I grew up in the gutter of a neon stretch of town
on a corner in the west-side of the dome
in the crypt of a cathedral with less rooms than there are people,
its all I need, and all I’ve ever known
Weekends I can work selling pick-me-ups and tabs
in the car park of a nightclub called the crown
mostly to the old agers that never adapted to the changes
when the towers of their old world fell down
The stakes are high enough so that to live you join the game
but the old agers, they refuse to play
So they pop tabs by the tonne and relive their days beneath sun
until to their souls, the hands of death lay claim.
When I was young they used to tell me stories of a sky,
but I must confess I have never felt the appeal
and i’ve seen tidal waves and beaches on the screens the used to teach us,
but to me, all that matters is whats real.
And that’s why you shine so bright in my mind
And that’s why I loved so hard the time
you took hold of my hand, and we ran on waves of synthetic sand
and you kissed me beneath the neon light
I don’t need nothing from no-one
as long as I have that night.
When I met you in the bar at the back of the arcade,
you had look like you’d been waiting for me
and I might of been projecting but there lasers in your eyes reflecting
and that is everything that I could see
We were talking within minutes of our gazes crossing paths
I made you laugh and you made me red
And I can recall that time like a transcript in my mind
everything you did and every word you said
How took off for a walk down by the chemical spring
and the dome switched to its buzzing amber haze
I had you by side, I had melody and time,
I had it all and you could see it on my face.
So whilst people dream of mountains and cascades of falling snow
I’m content with what I can see
the way that birds looked when they flew, and the smell of grass and dew
never where of any use to me
And that’s why you shine so bright in my mind
And that’s why I loved so hard the time
you took hold of my hand, and we ran on waves of synthetic sand
and you kissed me beneath the neon light
I don’t need nothing from no-one
as long as I have that night.
|
||||
Daniel Morgan Wirral, UK
If you like Daniel Morgan, you may also like:
Introspective, homespun folk tunes from John Donne that feel informed by the sugary bleakness of '80s and '90s indie pop.
go to album
Once Upon A Time In Montréal
by Murray A. Lightburn
The folk artist explores grief through these smooth and soulful tracks.
go to album
Hell on Church Street
by punchbrothers
A re-envisioning of Tony Rice's classic album "Church Street Blues" from Brooklyn progressive bluegrass quartet Punch Brothers.
go to album
The St Buryan Sessions
by Sarah McQuaid
Recorded live at St Buryan Church, the latest from Sarah McQuaid is a showcase for the simple power of voice & guitar.
go to album
Anthemic and hook-laden folk-rock from Grace Petries is full of both good humor and wryly poetic observations on life and love.
go to album
A Mutable Feast or: The Ghost of a Flea
by John Donne
Lovely folk-based music with soft corners and dreamlike melodies, full of fairy-tale-like enchantment.
go to album
crookhollow and variations
by poor horse
An intimate (and instrumental) improvised solo guitar meditation on the vastness of the unknown, from the Appalachian mountains.
go to album
