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"Blues For Lornica (Lornica Blues)"

Lyrics and Music: Jonas L. Cockson

Playin' round a corn-picker
on her daddy's farm
thas where lil' Lornica
lost her little arm
My one-armed woman
She's really been
through hell
this is my ode to her
Her story I will tell..

Met her one a bar-stool
drowning in some rye
one arm, one hand, one smile
and a
pair of sapphire eyes
Oh--what a woman!
My heart began
to melt
this is my song to her
Her story I do tell..

Stumbling on the train tracks
bottle in her hand
well she had up and left me
for a
younger one-armed man
(you see)
she always loved me
and so she faced
the train
She gained a new beginning
and lost a life 
of pain..

Her body mutilated
snow is painted red
found her hand beside
the tracks 
and as I wept – yes – I said,
"My one-armed woman – a lady
fine and grand
This is the last time
I'll ever hold
yer hand
This is my goodbye
to you
I hope we'll 
meet again
I know we'll meet again
We'll meet again!"

Copyright 2021

"Blues For Lornica"

Killin Tha Serpents (prod.kie)

I wrote this track long time ago. On this version, I added a poetry/narration.
Lyrics:
The unicity of time and space does not resolve in the non-Euclidean space of our bewildering desires. The time of a coffee break is just a blink in the interferences of gravity waves,  swirling around our ankles like snakes with scales of pure darkness. 
I remember walking in the deep mountain grass, following  the energy lines. The briars and the dandelion caressed the leather of my worn out boots. I could focus on the implication of the intricate energy curves  in the synapses of the earth, but I'd rather loose myself to the ancient melody, the echoes of  which are only rumors in the mountain wind and whispers  in the leaves of the alders.
Lying on the cool mountain grass,  I sunbathed in the white light of pure abstraction. My body merged to the glorious colors of the chaotic spectrum . The pulse of my blood in my ears was nothing else than the rhythm of the cosmic melody taught by the Great Old Ones. My skin turned to copper, my hair to quicksilver. The musk of my sweat, the smell of my feet and the perfume of the mountain flowers mixed into the music of fractal dimensions. I forgot the notion of time and space but kept them under the domination of my bewildering desires.  
I saw a vulture turning in the sky, tearing the cotton candy clouds and capturing the refracted image of my shining body in its stone-like eyes. 
Because of our needs for uncanny cults, because of our interior medieval poetry, because of the resilience of memories of the great old ones in the books of pure cosmic madness, our self-consciousness is eroding itself on the wind of photonic melodies.  Our fading images have walked barefoot on the ashes of dying stars, on the frost of interstellar space, on the cold metal polished by high energy protons, on the desiccated carapaces of ancient predators.  Dive in the ocean of spectral harmony,  just the time of a coffee break, and bath in the waters of pure imagination, towards  the lost vibrations of our forgotten orgasms.

Surrealist Piano Treck (Narration - Demo)

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A reworking of a Trapdoor classic from back in the late 80s!
Bit of a mixing sound dip in the middle and at least one of the guitars was fractionally (actually, quite a bit!) out of tune here, but hey - you get the idea!

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Cover inspired by https://www.si.edu/object/zurich%3Ahmsg_86.1355

album.link

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