Cold fire in a thinning line
The sky began to bruise
Night settles for what it can get
And beggars you to choose
Just a glint of the tortured flint
Just the tinder left to use
Just the smile of the sunset line
Baring all its teeth at you

Polyphemus and a blinded eye
The color of the sea
At the bottom of abyssal plains
Only winedark for the lees
Drink it down to the salty dregs
Pick it from the teeth
Like the strings of a lyre’s heart
Ringing out for harmony

And in the darkness there’s a thousand shining eyes
Come closer by the firelight, throw your sparks into the sky
Come closer by the firelight, throw your sparks into the sky

Heat shimmer on the memory
Of well-worn walking tracks
Ambulation of a strident heart
With a weight upon its back
Ten years as the stars go by
From door to open door
Triple-seven like a trireme rowed
Out to Ithaca the shore

And in the darkness there’s no need for your disguise
Come closer by the firelight, throw your sparks into the sky
Come closer by the firelight, throw your sparks into the sky

Rough beast in the undergrowth
Eyes of fire and smoke
The pain of fears inherited
And names on which you choke
Ash given to the eastern wind
A temporary home
The lamp that burns for the traveler
And when it’s gone they’re still alone

And in the darkness there’s a thousand shining eyes
Come closer by the firelight, throw your sparks into the sky
Come closer by the firelight, throw your sparks into the sky

Closer By The Firelight

When you wash and you wash
And the stains won't come clean
Like Lady Macbeth
Act 5, the first scene
Who'd have thought the old country
Could hold so much blood
Out out you damned spot
Oh it wasn't my fault

I pulled not a trigger
No lead left my hand
It was too busy scraping
The fat of the land
I'm sorry, your children
Weren't part of the plan
We'd do what we could
But there's nothing we can

We're not well-regulated
And the State isn't free
It needs money to run
And the same's true for me
I'll take what you give me
I'll sell any lies
You can't see the damned spot
If you cover your eyes
You can't see the damned spot
If you cover your eyes

When you wash and you wash
Til the skin starts to bleed
Like Lady Macbeth
Will these hands not come clean?
Here's the smell of the blood on
The whole dark machine
Out out you damned spot
No more to be seen

Don't call me complicit
Spare all the details
Don't go blaming the hammer
For the driving of nails
'Cause with action there's surely
An impact to sales
So the numbers can soar
While the ferryman sails

We're not well-regulated
And the State isn't free
It needs money to run
And the same's true for me
I'll take what you give me
I'll sell any lies
You can't see the damned spot
If you cover your eyes
You can't see the damned spot
If you cover your eyes

The Damned Spot

born without a tail
the morning star fell 
quiet like a stone
cast out from here 
Promethean and
living on its own
sleigh bells ring
Isaac in the manger 
safe and sound
the barbary ape
the Hawthorn tree
uprooted from the ground

the rod of a pagan god
serpent tongue to serpent tongue
the stairsteps round
the adenine and cytosine were one
the holy Now
baptised in the river from upstream
the forgery found
in the sleepy eyes of someone else’s dream

Anthony, the cave
the pornographic spirits circle round
the Mithraeum
the chapel build on slowly shifting ground
Invidia
her sunken eyes gone emerald in the light
Superbia
holding on with nothing more than pride

the horn of a pagan god
bathed in blood he’s born again
the stairsteps down
a broken helix patched with soldered tin
the wedding vows
lost between the static on the screen
the forgery found
in the sleepy eyes of someone else’s dream

the cross is steady but the world keeps turnin’
the cross is steady but the world keeps turnin’
the cross unsteady but the world keeps turnin’ round

the rod of a pagan god
serpent tongue to serpent tongue
the healer found
the oath he spoke to firstly do no harm
the holy Now
baptised in the river from upstream
the forgery found
in the sleepy eyes of someone else’s dream

The Barbary Ape

to capture a fire in amberglass daydream
to capture a spirit won't leave me at rest
the planchette turns once, is the answer forthcoming?
she asks "are you broken?" and it slides down to yes

the wedding dress veil, the gossamer fabric
that twists in the jet stream and wraps round the day
like watching a movie in a forgotten language
i can almost make out what they're trying to say

well it's cold over here
and i don't see the purpose
in meeting the living
even if they're halfway
an unwelcome reminder
of the warmth in a heartbeat
and the gratitude given
for another fine day

to capture the ocean in seaglass and saltspray
to speak to the deepest with nothing to say
the planchette goes silent, the answer glass shatters
the wrists bleeding softly their sweet cabernet

now the air's thick with cherries, a splendid beginning
the phantom was deaf to the ferryman's call
he walked the long shadows you cast in your dreaming
and when you turned round he was not there at all

well it's cold over here
and i don't see the purpose
in meeting the living
even if they're halfway
an unwelcome reminder
of the warmth in a heartbeat
and the gratitude given
for another fine day

The Answer Glass

it's two minutes to midnight
our dance card is filling up fast
proliferation's the renewed sensation
and glasnost's a nost of the past

it's two minutes to midnight
and much to the old world's chagrin
empowered and embittered, on Facebook and Twitter
the Nazi's are trending again

it's two minutes to midnight
the English are ready to split
aw the sun never sets, but i'm willing to bet
that Scotland will not take their shit

it's two minutes to midnight
tried to write about old 45
but the whole thing's so dire
it's immune to satire
we'll be lucky to reach next year alive

it's two minutes to midnight
we've ignored that the whole world's on fire
but one Swedish girl has the ears of the world
and 6 billion left to inspire

it's two minutes to midnight
that's worse than back in '62
when Nikita and Jack were both on the attack
in their nuclear-armed rendevzous

it's two minutes to midnight
that's worse than back in '83
when Star Wars meant more than a John Williams score
to the ears of the old KGB

it's two minutes to midnight
but in case you default to despair
that's 60 times 2 further seconds to move
before we start saying our prayers

it's two minutes to midnight
we'll do what we can to survive
fortune favors the brashest
so let's vote out the fascists
and start turning the long hand to 5!

The Bulletin of Atomic Scientists Doomsday Clock Waltz

did you notice the days were getting longer
or maybe just don’t want to leave?
there’s a hope that could split an ocean
it’s more than I can believe
a shattered pearl
the wings of birds
the world an oyster
on my windowsill

the gentle spin becomes the room
the crest of morning crests too soon
to break the back of afternoon
the antisolar crown
the blackout curtains can’t keep in
the easy light of oblivion
the perfect answers found within
the dark before the dawn

did you notice the days were getting longer
or maybe the night retreats?
around the curve where the clouds begin
like sherman’s march to the sea
to salt the earth
so nothing grows
to fall to pieces
on the thousandth blow

holy father blessed who
destroyed the garden where the first tree grew
left his children in the ashen wood
naked and afraid
land me on your burning shore
lift the lamp across the golden door
to want for nothing but to want for more
a new colossus swayed


did you notice the days were getting longer
or maybe just don’t want to leave?
there’s a hope that could split an ocean
it’s more than I can believe

Across The Golden Door

The mornings have been preternaturally quiet. Even the sleepy suburbs seem sleepier. I've seen plaintive messages in chalk left for neighbor kids that can't come out to play. Lazy cats in silent gardens. A man quietly singing "Imagine" on his front stoop to noone in particular. The message on a window across from me reading "HELLO WORL" in hastily spraypainted paper. Piles of books and glassware on the street with a "free" sign, products of well-intentioned spring cleaning but left untouched. The world is strange right now, but charming in its way. 

Wilbury Crescent is just some tiny street in Hove I ran down the other day that exemplifies that quiet. I woke up with this song partially intact and wrote it in bed. Time is passing so differently right now.

Cops and robbers, it's the hopscotch blues
Games with the away team where you couldn't lose
The crowd goes wild on the evening news
All is quiet now

The wind picks up the lid and scatters the trash
Newsprint confessionals and cigarette ash
Sweep up the pieces with the petty cash
All is quiet now

What do you make of days when you can't close eyes when it's all said and done?
Wilbury Crescent sleeps in on Sundays and longs for the touch of the sun

The silent sidewalk and the neon chalk
Staggered procession of the evening walk
We can just lie here we don't have to talk
All is quiet now

The gift of hands you cannot receive
The warmth that lingers when it's time to leave
The lack of substance in the space between
All is quiet now

What do you make of days when you can't settle down 'cause you're still on the run?
Wilbury Crescent sleeps in on Sundays and longs for the touch of the sun

What do you make of days when you can't close eyes when it's all said and done?
Wilbury Crescent sleeps in on Sundays and longs for the touch of the sun

Wilbury Crescent

there was smoke in a tangle of limbs
there were leaves in the way she undressed
there were embers i remember
so delicate and silver
they could unwind a hummingbird nest

there is charcoal in the heart of the timber
there are diamonds in the future unrevealed
see the last star blinking out
in the universe of doubt
satisfied it's out of secrets to conceal

i could have flown if i had tried a little harder
i could have grown if there was water in the ground
the one who's risen from the flame
different eyes behind the name
but you'll know me by my soul the next time round

hungry ghost in the black and white morning
shades its iris to the color of desire
only wants what it can see
to escape the waking dream
and leave the rest to be recycled in the fire

but the seed's becoming iron in the soil
and the salt in the ocean turns to lead
yeah desire breeds the most
souls in the land of hungry ghosts
and can the sleeper tell the dreaming from the dead?

i could have flown if i had tried a little harder
i could have grown if there was water in the ground
the one who's risen from the flame
different eyes behind the name
but you'll know me by my soul the next time round

there was smoke in a tangle of limbs
there were leaves in the way she undressed
there were embers i remember
so delicate so tender
they could unwind a hummingbird nest

Hungry Ghosts

the lincolnshire poacher speaks
shall we go a hunting in the
static and the squeaks?
a message bore repeating
for the listener below
a briefcase passed in silence with the
glance that says it knows
the old world's secret vices

and it's strange to keep repeating
strange to keep repeating
strange to keep repeating

the lincolnshore poacher bound
in guilt and restitution for the 
tragedies abound
a frail constitution for the
work that must be done
the letters borne in silence and the
quiet tell that shows
the old world's secret violence

and it's strange to keep repeating
strange to keep repeating
strange to keep repeating

0 2 5 5 8
me and my companions and the
hare we skinned and ate
the gamekeeper kept watching for the
season had to change
and the numbers neveranding

and it's strange to keep repeating
strange to keep repeating
strange to keep repeating

The Lincolnshire Poacher

You don’t see Mr. Kibber hanging 'round the Palace Pier
You don’t get that many tourists coming round this time of year
Lift your head to the wind and you can almost smell his fear
100 miles to ruin
60 miles to have
These Brighton blues
Cut a long and lonely path

Everything to lose, and everything to gain
Another year out in that old cross-channel rain
You’ve got to play the part, you’ve got to leave to remain
The lights blink on
Then they sputter out
These Brighton blues
Like the windmills to the south

Annafrieda and her missing diamond ring
To bring her lover back would do most anything
Cried her tears into that old chalybeate spring
You can taste the iron
You can taste the blood
With these Brighton blues
Ah the well becomes a flood

The racetrack’s quiet since the great beast hit the ground
Not with a bang but with a sickly sort of sound
Caught the last boat headed west New Hampshire bound
You can call it a garden
You can call it a hole
These Brighton blues
Scrape the ashes from the sole

The ghost train rattles every plank along the track
The waves gone silent waiting for their next attack
I could be happy with that ocean at my back
Like the murmuration
Of a thousand birds
These Brighton blues
Turning silence into words

Sleeping rough out on the shingle late at night
The evening colder than a thousand points of light
Just turn away and hope it all comes out alright
Wrapped in stars and bars
Or in the white and red
These Brighton blues
Leaving nothing left unsaid

These Brighton Blues

the way the moon and mars
rose together side by side
you can see how ancient people
thought their motions must be tied
two mariners just waiting
to be lifted by the tide

permanence abandoned
in the shifting star-sand skies
the sun gets recreated
every time it tries to rise
a forgery too perfect
to be seen by untrained eyes

a gentle hand of violet
runs its fingers through the air
holding back the darkness
for a loving, longing stare
it takes a little light
to see the shadows everywhere

the hotel glow comes on
and the shadow play begins
red lights on the cranes
that dip their heads into the wind
once more, the moon and mars can feel
the tide come rushing in...

The Moon And Mars In Conjunction Over the Hotel Ibis

Probably the only songwriter in Austin with a song about Helena Blavatsky AND Ida Craddock, but hey, who’s counting?

Waltzes about ghosts 'n things. Last EP was 2019's "The Old Straight Track".

William Wallace

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