an axe to the root; a spade through the shoot

flood

"matthew with your sellotape
holding your broken rims
onto your face"

(other brands of adhesive tape are available)

matthew's song

Tippi Heddron came to my bed last night
She pulled back the sheets in the fading light
She lay with me, and the pleasure mixed with the pain
(I'd seen her on screen, but it's not the same)
Now the birds outside are pecking their way through my door
And I ain't gonna say her name no more

The priest came to me in my guilty room
Sat on the edge of the bed with his face like a tomb
He was whispering words that I did not understand
Then he blessed my sheets with a shaky hand
And he said 'believe', but I could never be sure 
And I ain't gonna say them prayers no more

When the doctor came I had not long left
He pressed a bony finger to my pulsing neck
Said 'I'll give you something - it'll quell the fever and pain'
Then he jabbed his needle into my bluest vein
And he watched with glee as I slumped and slid to the floor
And I ain't gonna take them pills no more

You came to me in my final breath
And your eyes were clear and your flesh shone bright
You stood and knocked, the shadows scattered and fled
And your burning coal ripped my world to shreds
Well I ain't gonna lie, it hurt like never before


FAQs:

- Yes, this is a song about being seduced by an actress, as well as the sickness and death that result from such seduction. 
- No, this has never happened to me.
- Yes, I am aware of the psychoanalytic concerns my writing of this song may raise.
- No, I do not use the word 'ain't' in ordinary speech, and rarely substitute 'them' for 'these' or 'those'.

(On being seduced, in a dream, by "Tippi" Hedren, star of Alfred Hitchcock's film) The Birds

teeth

prayer

When they're crawling up beneath you
When they're swooping down to reach you
Well, you've got to dig deeper,
You've got to get sleeker

Everything a hunter in its own way
Everything a triumph on the right day
Everything a lion in its own cage
Everything a hunter in its own way

But you've been pissing on your own parade
Living with the lights low
And every little sigh gives the game away; 
How you want to sink your teeth in

Everything a hunter in its own way
Turning in a circle like a bird of prey
Everything a lion in its own cage
Everything a hunter in its own way

hunter

song for fran. thanks to mel, chris and t s eliot

"What seas what shores what grey rocks and what islands
What water lapping the bow
And scent of pine and the woodthrush singing through the fog
What images return
O my daughter."

marina

knot-weed growing through the palace walls
brambles thick in the city halls
algal bloom in the ocean warm

bloom

notes for listeners and their carers:

badly recorded, poorly sung
heavy-breathing; occasional throat-clearing
theme: decline (and fall)
songs; for someone else to sing
a flood; to fill the valleys in

borrowed and blue

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