Chance the Rapper and Drake and Beyonce as references. Thanks to Theo and Pete for advice.

You don't want my heart
Lie like you used to
I ain’t gonna tell you how to feel today
You don’t want my heart
You just, Lie like you used to

Regardless I love you 
Ain’t no one above you
You don’t feel
How you felt
That’s alright
I don’t need anything from you

Lie like you used to
I ain’t gonna tell you how to feel today
Took my car out for the weekend
Booked some time just you and me when
Some guys in your dms
You’re so mad to see him
And I don’t even say a damn thing
I don’t ask
I don’t need to
So I ain’t gonna tell you how I feel again
You don’t get my heart 
I won’t, try like I used to


And I know
I ain’t forgetting about you

Regardless I Love You with Ben Clifford

I just got a baritone uke! It has the most beautiful resonant deep sound ever.  Love love love.

------

The best day of my life 
I was lying in the sand at dawn
The sun came quick and warm to me
I felt the driftwood, smooth and strong

You were in the air all around me
You were the salt in the cracks of a shell
I had a heart that was beating, beating
My troubles washed out in the rising swell 

Oh how little I know that I don't know
One breath today and another on Tuesday
Oh how much to love and how much to show?
One death today and another on Tuesday 

The worst day of my life
I was lying in the sand at dawn
The sun came quick and warm to me
But you were dead, dead and gone 

Little crabs dug their home all around me
Tangled seaweed poured in with the tide 
I had a heart that was beating, beating 
You had a heart that was rotting inside 

Oh how little we know that we don't know
One breath today and another on Tuesday
Oh how much to love and how much to show?
One death today and another on Tuesday

Tuesday (original song) (demo)

This song was written for the song a week group in reddit.

Great Big World

SongAWeek 1

Week1:
Challenging myself to do one song a week. Here's the first song. Rough around the edges, but the deadline is the deadline.

Picture: "Mens du læser avisen nyheder"(1912) by Hans Andersen Brendkilde

Varech - Demo

Written and performed by Fran O’Hanlon (AJIMAL)
Produced by Guy Massey and Fran O'Hanlon
Artwork by drømsjel.
All rights reserved.
ⓟ & ©AJIMAL 2020.

Watch the video, featuring friends, musicians and medics, filmed in isolation during the Covid-19 pandemic - https://youtu.be/Dkyurn562H8

There is a wind of spite that chills
There is a song-less sky of still
If I were struggling for breath, who’d clasp me close?  
Who’d bear my breathing
As I gasped in death?

There is a dark that light can’t kill
Within the blinding fear it fills 
If I were huddling for warmth, who’d clean my clothes? 
Who’d share their blankets?
Or would I freeze alone?

This is not difficult or radical
This is fundamental. This is pivotal. 
This is the most important:

Be kind
Be gentle
Be mild, be simple
Be patient, be peaceful
But above all else, be kind

There is a thirst no substance can quench
There is a hunger that will not be silent
If you were famished, your children unfed
Who’d sit you down to share their table?
Who would share their bread?

This is not difficult or radical
This is fundamental. This is critical. 
This is the single most important:

Be kind
Be gentle
Be mild, be simple
Be patient, be peaceful
But above all be kind
Be humble
Show mercy, show caring
Don’t hate or hide, 
Don’t let fears divide

Above all else,
Above all else,
Be kind

ajimalmusic@gmail.com
www.ajimal.co.uk
@ajimalmusic

Above All Else, Be Kind

As I Dreamed

lyrics:

the night i met you at the billionaire house party 
I was too cool, lying right thru my teeth.
you shook my hand and it was murder in the first degree,
premeditated at the billionaire house party

Uh oh! Now i’m doing self portraits daily,
oh, won’t you please come and save me?
my mind wrapped up in chalk pastels
i’m telling you to take me home
i’m telling you to take me home

we were an exhibit at the billionaire house party
I was posed like a Schiele. Dance II, Matisse 
you took my hand and we called out at the bourgeoisie aristocratically

Uh oh! Now i’m doing self portraits daily,
oh, won’t you please come and save me?
my mind wrapped up in chalk pastels
i’m telling you to take me home

Oh no! analyzing like an early cubist,
obsessive like a new wave movement,
I used last night to write this song 
i’m asking you to take me home.

i’ve written you into my diary
and i’ve spoken through the iterations of my face
taped to my wall.
oh, I feel too fast, i move too much.
but worst of all, I’m lying 
oh, i’m lying about it all

uh oh, i’m still doing self portraits daily,
when you gonna come and save me?
my mind confined to your every move 
am i ever gonna make it home?

Oh no! analyzing like an early cubist,
obsessive like a new wave movement,
I used last night to write this song 
i’m asking you to take me home.

fuck that! i just wanna go out to dinner
nevermind that i’m a beginner
i drew your face to clear my head 
now i’m never gonna make it home.

i’m never gonna make it home

Billionaire House Party

boat

Recorded at 1in12, Bradford on Gerrard's field recorder.

Paper Trailing (w/Gerrard Bell Fife)

SongAWeek9

Picture: Rainy Nights by John Atkinson Grimshaw (late 1800s)







__

Lyrics:

A role call right on cue 
Set aspark, refusing to stay in tune
With sand slowly cooling the dunes 

New headless figurines
With an eldritch glow the breaker won’t leave
Sailing the gray north sea

Here it comes again
The rattle of film over the door 
I thought you said you were sure
Tongue in a tie, hung at a bow

I throw out my arms to the wolves
And anything left here that grows
is a thought much too late to discard
That still not a single one of us know       

Slip out a well-worn loop
From above, a turn I would wish to undo
but sunlight just tempers the dunes 

I wagered red on luck
but the cliff just winds up a bit too abrupt
A call you can’t wait to hang up 

Here it comes again
Heavy in gray, washing afloor
I thought you said you were sure
Tongue in a tie, hung at a bow

I thrown out my arms to the wolves
And anything left here that grows
is a thought much too late to discard
That still not a single one of us know

Regardless I Love You with Ben Clifford

Alex Crompton

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