Sub Liminal (Ruff Mix)

SAIL (INTRO)

OLD WOUNDS

(When your ship comes in...)
It's gonna find it's melody
If I try not to push it'll come to me,
words flowing free and easy
pouring sea of melodies
I did not know til now
I watched them forming
falling from my brow
Sweat bleeds til it weaving til it heals
weaving until it heals 
until it heals
(weaving sweetly)
sweet melody reveals

Sweat bleeds...

© M. Randle (Lyrics/Music)

Taster - "OLD WOUNDS" [DEMO]

INNER STRANGER

Like a ghost from a fable through abandoned lands
she drifted unstable, unable to stand
Loneliness is a killer of the stranded souls
and the holes within her run deep and old
She cried out while sleeping to be held by the earth,
a rebirth she was weeping, washed clean in the dirt, 
he was weeping
she was sleeping

No please this is disease!
so ill at ease it's easy to get ill
but still, seems I won't stop until
I break, break apart for good
feel so fragmented that I easily could

© M. Randle (Lyrics/Music)

INNER STRANGER (demo taster)

(W)HOLE AGAIN

Why do I have to find it so hard to say?
Why do these feelings have to weigh
So heavy on my chest?
Why do I always seem to feel I'm second best
Then I settle for less?

When you're strong 
You can be the strength
You won't get worn
Drained by the forlorn
You don't get torn
Away from your mast
You're held steadfast
Between future and past

But when you're broken open
You soak emotion
Like a choking ocean...

© M. Randle (Lyrics/Music)

(W)HOLE AGAIN [demo taster]

MIGRANT

I tread the red dust 
It sticks to my skin 
Embeds itself deep in my pores 
I stand on this crust 
This crust it wears thin 
The more we weep to heal its sores 

Borders are wounds in constant pain 
Run deep ripped open over and again 
Not dressed 
Left unaddressed they fester 
They don't heal 
Far East and out West 
Laid to rest 
Because it pays to deal in human lives 
To barcode bones like boxes 
As the battlecry tones strike home like knives...

© M. Randle (Lyrics/Music)

MIGRANT [demo taster]

OPEN BOOK

I am an open book, if you look inside
My soul pours through these meagre lines
My spit is the ink that draws
It forms and reforms
It burns and writhes
And through its turns I am bourne alive
Aloft and sreaming
Carried on its waves, Im carried
Aloft and screaming on its waves

You feel me now over time gone by
Though I may not be here in flesh
Oh words are wonders, born to fly
To immortally express
‘Here I lay and here I wrote’
Over seas and roads I float
Flying feetfirst through the night
Always moving, but still I write

I wrote I wrote I wrote I wrote
I wrote until my soul was spent
And until pain, became to me irrelevant
And nothing but a name
Nothing but a name
I wrote til my soul was spent
I wrote until the pain
Became irrelevant and nothing more than a name… 


© M. Randle (Lyrics/Music)

OPEN BOOK (demo taster)

THE TICKING SONG

Where do you go when your home has been blown to pieces?
When all you’ve ever known is thrown
And peace is only a word you’ve heard 
through Western mouths
Unsavoury sounds and tastes abound
They rest uneasy on shrapnelled ears
When there’s no more flow of salt for the tears
And no song can make you feel you belong
And your belongings are left behind
Along with any traces that remind
Of where your grandmother trod & her mother before her
Where your fathers lie buried beneath the slaughter
And now ‘home’ is made out on the water…

And your child rests his head on a turbulent bed
That you would never have made
And everywhere you tread is gleaming red
With the blood that you gave

Now your world is a broken stage
From where you are hurled, a token slave
Put your childern early to the grave
To save them from a life enslaved

Too tired to run, but you do it
To escape the bomb and who threw it
And on and on, the ticking song
They sing, “You don’t belong, you don’t belong...”

© M. Randle (Lyrics/Music)

THE TICKING SONG -  [demo taster]

Official music page for MARI RANDLE. New Music. Pending Projects. Collabs. Solo Work. WIPs & tasters...

VAULT OF EAGLES / ROSE & MARI (Deborah Rose & Mari Randle)/ THE O'FARRELLS FROLICKS / music past, present, future