At Arms Length - Single

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Recorded and produced by Greg Lines.
Artwork designed by Barney Lines-Hembrey.
Photo from Jude Hatton-Holland. 

Lyrics:

The wonders of the world, ain't so,
Wonderful to me,
Oh I'd, rather stay on this sceptred isle my friend,
I know, no greater wall than the one built by Hadrian.

So come along with me, let's sit,
By this old oak tree,
Take me, out to a pretty part of a public park,
All this, rushing around well you know that I want no part.

Cos I've seen such beauty, up and down this land,
The value of which some folks don't seem to understand,
But I know that out there, a life of ours was planned,
So don't go searching far and wide, the answer lies at home.

See the Shepherd sing, to his,
Flock and 'tween the wings, 
Of a, Sparrow on high you can hear yes he joins the song,
And as I, just catch myself yes I notice I sing along.

The Shepherd & the Sparrow

Recorded and produced by Greg Lines.
Artwork designed by Barney Lines-Hembrey.
Photo from Jude Hatton-Holland. 

Lyrics:

Slowly was a waggoner, in old Shaston town,
He always took the toughest work, 'twas nothing he'd turn down,
And one day on the road so long, a message he received,
To the Abbey you must go Slowly, 'tis your help that we need.

Arriving on the Abbey side, Slowly slowed the ox to find,
The Master by the bells so large, who told him of his coming charge,
Spreadeagle you must take them now, to a man who's dug deep underground,
There these two bells you will hide, to keep them safe from old Ironside.

The rain poured down, the oxen strained,
They ploughed along, to the hidden grave, 
Lower them down, deep underground,
Where these bells, shall ne'er be found,
Shall ne'er be found,
Shall ne'er be found. 

Returning through the Blackmore Vale, Ironside's men came down the trail,
Calling after Slowly's cart, "you there son get off this path",
"We're headed for the Abbey grounds, where great riches will be found",
Slowly smirked he knew their fate, empty handed they'd leave this place.

The rain poured down, the wind blew gale,
They searched all night, to no avail,
Their hopes were downed, gone homeward-bound,
Those Abbey bells, shall ne'er be found,
Shall ne'er be found,
Shall ne'er be found,
Shall ne'er be found,
Shall ne'er be found.

The Abbey Bells

FAWM 1 - Take Stock

Listen little man
An old foe pertains its hold
On the backs of your hands
Now onto your face it has grown so bold
The cracks reappear, an upsetting repeat
Do not shed a tear, you cannot be defeated

With all you now know 
Don’t let it consume your mind
Your resolve has grown
Be gentle, sweet and kind to yourself
The cracks reappear, an upsetting repeat
Do not shed a tear, you cannot be defeated

Take stock of all you’re not
Alone in this fatigue 
Don’t fret on what you’ve got
Think on what you’ll achieve

Take Stock

If it ain't broke... Another collab with Peter (he really should do FAWM...) and this time, I already had the music, recorded one evening last week when I had no voice. When he sent me these words yesterday, I knew they would go well together. I allowed myself one rehearsal and then recorded the vocal in one take - I didn't want to overthink it and I liked the fact that it's a bit all over the place. I also enjoyed clicking on the distortion for this one - my most grungy song to date!

Alright / OK

greglines

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